



















































































































































































Gopight N?_^ 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 











PRINCE JAN 

ST. BERNARD 


V 



'"‘The duty of a St. Bernard is to save lives and be worthy of his 

ancestors’ ” 































PRINCE JAN 

ST. BERNARD 

How a Dog from the Land of Snow Made 
Good in the Land of No Snow 

FORRESTINE C?^^OKER 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY 

LYNN BOGUS HUNT 


GARDEN CITY, N. Y., AND TORONTO 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
192 1 


















(~l7S7(f 



OCT 18 iSi!! 

t 

I t 

€ 

COPYkiGHT, 1921, BY 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSI^TION 
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 

PRINTED IN GARDEN CITY, N. Y., U. S. A. 

First Edition 


§)CLA627307 




TO 

AN AMERICAN PATRIOT 
My father, Brigadier-General Charles 
L. Cooper, U. S. A., whose life for fifty- 
seven years, from May 27, 1862 to 
September 30, 1919, when he answered 
the Last RoU Call, was devoted to the 
service of his Country and his Flag. 

F. C. H. 



I**rTTTrfiTB[^nf[*rTn hrrm inMlMMMB BlIMMWrIf■ '’C.. 




CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PIQH 

I. The Hospice Dogs ...... 1 

II. The Land of Snow. 14* 

III. A New World ...... 29 

IV. The Land of No Snow . . . . > 38 

V. Jan Learns to Hate . . . . . 46 

VI. The Pound. 58 

VH. Hippity-Hop. 71 

VHI. The Muzzle. 81 

IX. Jan’s Journey to the Land of Make- 

Believe . 94 

X. The Home of the Sunbonnet Babies . 101 

XI. Prince Jan Visits Shorty . . . .114 

XII. The Poundmaster’s Problem . - . 125 

XHI. The Voices of the Hospice Dogs . . 140 

XIV. A Fireside Story. 157 

XV. An Unforgotten Trail .... 167 

XVI. Prince Jan Decides. 175 

XVII. Jan’s Reward. 180 












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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ ‘The duty of a St. Bernard is to save lives and 

be worthy of his ancestors’ ” . . . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

“ ‘You must be crazy, this is the pound,’ snapped 

the tiny creature”.62 

‘I wish the children could see Jan now’ ” . . 114 

“Then the roaring in his ears turned to the voices 
of the Hospice dogs—‘The duty of a St. Ber¬ 
nard is to save lives’” . . . . . . 148 








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PRINCE JAN 

ST. BERNARD 











PRINCE JAN 

St. Bernard 

Chapter I 
The Hospice Dogs 

P RINCE JAN was a fuzzy, woolly puppy 
with clumsy paws and fat, round body 
covered with tawny hair. His brown eyes 
looked with loving good-will at everything and 
everybody. 

Jan and his brother, Rollo, had great fun 
playing together, his long fur making it easy for 
Rollo to haul him around, while Jan’s teeth 
slipped from his brother’s short hair. Though 
they tumbled about and growled fiercely at each 
other, their eyes were dancing with laughter. 

When tired of playing, they would coax their 
mother to tell them stories about the Hospice 
dogs. Then they would lie very quietly listening 
with pricked-up ears and earnest eyes. Some- 
1 


2 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

times Bruno, the oldest dog in the kennels, would 
join in the talk, and all the young dogs would 
gather around to hear the history of their family. 
Prince Jan and Rollo, cuddled beside their 
mother, would look at each other with pride, 
remembering that they, too, were St. Bernards. 

‘T have heard the monks tell visitors that our 
ancestors have lived in the Hospice for a thou¬ 
sand years,” said Bruno in one of his talks. 
“When you puppies are old enough, you will be 
trained for work. The duty of a St. Bernard 
dog is to save lives and be worthy of his ances¬ 
tors.” 

Jan and Rollo looked at him and thumped 
their tails to show that they understood. 

“A good St. Bernard dog must have a sensi¬ 
tive nose, sturdy legs, and keen brains,” Bruno’s 
voice was very sober. “He knows what he 
must do when he finds a human being lost in 
the storm or frozen in the snow. Then he leads 
the way to the Hospice, or if the traveller does 
not follow, the dog brings monks to aid the man. 
Should one of us ever fail to do his best,” he 
turned his big head slowly and his eyes were seri¬ 
ous as he looked at the puppies, “it would mean 
disgrace for all the rest of the St. Bernard dogs.” 


THE HOSPICE DOGS 3 

“Tell us more stories, Bruno,” the youngsters 
begged. 

“Not to-day,” Bruno shook his wise head. 
“Your ancestors have done great things, and you 
have the right to be proud of them, but the only 
way to prove yourselves worthy is for you to 
do your duty as well as they did theirs. Unless 
you remember your lessons and follow them, you 
will not be true St. Bernards, and your failures 
will be stains on the honor of the name we bear. 
Never forget that as long as you live!” 

Bruno understood that the soft little whimpers 
were promises that each puppy would do his best 
when the test came to him. Jan and Hollo 
watched the old dog, limping from rheumatism 
in his shoulders, move slowly across the enclosed 
yard that opened from the kennels. Bruno was 
no longer able to go out on the trails, but spent 
his days teaching the young dogs. Sometimes he 
would lie asleep, and when his paws jerked and 
his tail moved, Jan’s mother would say, “Be 
quiet, children! Bruno is dreaming he is out on 
the trail.” 

Then she would speak softly, “When you are 
older you will be taught to break trails through 
the snow and carry food and wine, fastened 


4 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


about your necks. You may be tempted, when 
the wind howls and the snow blinds you, to sneak 
back or hide in a sheltered place. You must not 
forget, as long as you live, that there was never 
a traitor or coward in your father’s family or in 
mine. When you remember this, you will stag¬ 
ger on or crawl, if you cannot stand, and keep 
your nose close to the ground, sniffing and snif- 
fing.” 

She turned her head toward the white peaks 
that loomed high above the stone walls around 
the enclosure. “Only a St. Bernard can tell 
whether the snow which has drifted during the 
night is strong enough to bear the weight of a 
man, or whether that man would sink beyond 
rescuing.” 

Jan and his brother waited respectfully when 
she stopped speaking and stared at the moun¬ 
tain-tops, until she said, “Sometimes, you will 
find an ice-bridge. Then you must go very 
carefully. If it creaks beneath your weight, 
never let any human being step on it, even if 
you must fight him back. Your father, Rex, 
died when an ice-bridge broke through; but he 
saved four men from death. Always remember 


THE HOSPICE DOGS 


5 


one thing. To die doing one’s duty is the great¬ 
est honor that can come to a St. Bernard.” 

The two puppies whined softly and their 
mother knew that each of her children was prom¬ 
ising that he would do his best to be worthy of 
such a father. 

“Ah,” said Prince Jan to his brother, as their 
mother crossed the yard toward the kennel, 
“some day we, too, will go out and do our work. 
Won’t that be glorious. Hollo?” 

In their happiness they raced to their mother, 
who watched them with loving, proud eyes. 
When they reached her side Jan measured him¬ 
self to see how much bigger he must grow, for 
though he was large for his age, he was only six 
months old. 

“Oh, if I could only grow faster, mother!” he 
cried. 

“Be patient, Jan,” she answered, biting his 
ear gently. “Your time is coming soon!” 

“My time is coming! My time is coming!” 
Jan leaped and barked in glee. 

“Mine, too!” called Rollo. “We’ll work to¬ 
gether, Jan!” 

The big door leading from the enclosure where 
the dogs romped and played swung open, and 


6 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


two men who came out, stood looking at the dogs. 
The puppies watched eagerly, for these men 
had charge of the youngsters. All the dogs 
knew them, and even if the men had been stran¬ 
gers the Hospice dogs would have known they 
were monks who belonged to the Hospice, for 
the clothes they wore were different from the 
clothes of other men who came to the Hospice 
for a day or two. 

A long, black, close-fitting coat reached almost 
to the feet of each monk, a peaked hood hung 
between his shoulders and a little round, black, 
skull-cap was on his head. All of the monks 
dressed the same way, and when it was cold and 
they went out on the trail, they took off the little 
cap and pulled the peaked hood over their heads 
and around their ears. 

The dogs hurried to the monks and one of the 
men leaned down and felt Jan’s legs and back. 
Prince Jan looked anxiously into the two kindly 
faces. He had seen them do the same thing with 
other puppies, and afterwards many of his play¬ 
mates went away and never returned. At first 
he and Rollo thought they had died on the trail, 
like their ancestors; but Jan’s mother shook her 


THE HOSPICE DOGS 


7 


head sadly and said, “They were not strong 
enough to do the work.” 

Now he remembered this and wondered if he 
would be sent away. His little legs and back 
stiffened so that the monks would see how strong 
he was. 

“I believe this will be one of the best dogs we 
have had since Barry’s time,” said Brother 
Antoine, running his hand along Jan’s back. 
“He has wonderful muscles and a very strong 
back. We will take him out and give him a trial 
to-morrow.” 

Jan licked the hand that rested on his head, 
then he dashed to his mother’s side, yelping with 
excitement and panting out the good news. 

She looked with pride into his happy eyes and 
said, “You are going to be just like your father! 
He was a descendant of Barry, the bravest dog 
of us all. You will be a credit to your ances¬ 
tors!” 

“I will do the very best I can,” promised little 
Prince Jan. Then he lay down and wrinkled his 
soft forehead as he tried to remember ever 5 rthing 
that Bruno and his mother had taught him, so 
that he would be ready for his first lesson. 

The next morning he was wide awake before 


8 PRIlSrCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


any of the other dogs. They all slept in a big 
basement under the Hospice building. Jan 
could see the arched corridors that reached along 
the big room with its floor of grey stone. The 
cows of the Hospice were kept in the basement, 
too, for there was never any green grass outside 
for them to graze upon. Here and there curled 
dogs that Prince Jan knew. Jupitiere, Junon, 
Mars, Vulcan, Pluton, Leon, and Bruno were 
not far away from him. 

At last the door leading to the yard was 
opened and the dogs raced and tumbled out, 
looking like great, tawny lions and cubs rushing 
from stone cages. They ate a breakfast of boiled 
rice that was poured into troughs for them, then 
Jan turned impatiently to the door, hoping it 
would not be very long before Brother Antoine 
would come for him. When the monk appeared 
on the stone steps Jan trembled nervously, and 
went forward quickly, but stopped at a certain 
point. He remembered what his mother had 
told him and Rollo. They must never step be¬ 
yond that place, even though visitors called to 
them. Brother Antoine smiled as he saw the 
pup halt. 

“Time for your first lesson. Prince Jan,” said 


THE HOSPICE DOGS 


9 


the monk in his gentle voice that all the dogs 
loved. Rollo whined pleadingly, and the monk 
laughed, “Yes, you, too, Rollo. Come along, 
both of you!” 

With sharp yelps they followed to the door, 
through the arched corridors, up a short flight of 
steps, past a big room. Rollo and Jan waited 
impatiently while Brother Antoine unfastened 
three doors, one after the other, and then as the 
last one opened, the two dogs dashed out into 
the snow. 

They gave little barks of joy and thrust their 
noses into the cold white mass, tossing it high 
and digging into drifts with broad clumsy paws, 
then stopping to rush at each other and tumble 
almost out of sight in their play. 

It was summer-time at the Hospice, though 
no one would have guessed it, for the snow lay 
in masses on all sides, the little lake was frozen 
over, and the peaks of the mountains were 
sheeted with snow and blue-white ice that never 
melted the year around. There was not so much 
danger for travellers during the months of July 
and August, and as the work was lighter for both 
the dogs and the monks, the puppies were then 
taken out for their first lessons. 


10 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


A collar was fastened to Prince Jan’s neck 
and from it hung a small bell that tinkled clearly 
with each step the proud little fellow took. 
When he looked back he saw his brother also had 
a collar and bell, and then a casket was tied to 
each pup’s neck. Both dogs watched the monks 
and at a sign from Brother Antoine they trotted 
carefully along the narrow, slippery way. 

There were no trees, grass, or flowers growing 
for many miles around the Hospice, for the 
earth was buried deep under rocks, and these 
rocks were covered all the time with a white 
blanket of snow, which drifted into the hollow 
places until it was many feet deep. The narrow 
trail twisted between cragged mountains, and 
often the dogs could look down so far that it 
would have made them dizzy, had they not been 
Hosfjice dogs. 

They trudged along happily for a long dis¬ 
tance, then Brother Antoine spoke to his com¬ 
panion and commanded Jan and Rollo to lie 
down. They obeyed at once, and watched him 
go on alone until he disappeared around a bend 
of the trail. The pups looked at each other anx¬ 
iously, and fixed their eyes on the face of the 
monk who had stayed with them, but he was 


THE HOSPICE DOGS 


11 


staring at the trail. Prince Jan whimpered 
softly, and Hollo echoed the sound, but neither 
of them rose to their feet. 

“Wait!” said the monk, and the dogs trembled 
with eagerness as they sniffed the cold air. 

At last the monk ordered, “Go!” Instantly 
they leaped to their feet and raced along the 
narrow pathway, their noses close against the 
snow to catch the scent of Brother Antoine who 
was somewhere ahead of them. 

At times they ran from the path to follow little 
gullies of heavy snow. They knew that Brother 
Antoine had trodden here, though no trace of 
liis steps could be seen on the surface, for the 
snow slid quickly in the summer months, and 
masses of it kept covering the slopes as it shifted 
rapidly. In this way Jan and Hollo trailed 
Brother Antoine until they reached a spot where 
they could find no further scent though they 
went around in circles. The other monk, who 
had followed more slowly, stood watching them 
as they paused, uncertain what to do. He made 
no sign to help them, but suddenly Prince Jan 
gave a sharp bark and thrust his nose deeply into 
the snow, where he began digging as fast as he 
could. Hollo, too, understood, and his front 


12 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

paws worked as fast as his brother’s until they 
had uncovered the face and shoulders of Brother 
Antoine, who had buried himself under the snow 
to see if they could find him. 

Both puppies leaped about in glee, barking 
and yelping until the sides of the narrow pass 
sent back echoes like many unseen dogs answer¬ 
ing them. Brother Antoine rose to his feet, 
smiling. He patted the soft, fuzzy heads while 
the other monk told how the dogs had acted with¬ 
out any help at all. 

“Jan led the way,” he said to Brother Antoine. 
“He shows wonderful intelligence.” 

“It is his father’s blood,” replied Brother 
Antoine, then he pointed toward the Hospice. 
“Go back!” he ordered. Prince Jan started 
obediently toward his home, while Rollo followed 
closely, but every once in a while both dogs turned 
back, or waited a bit, until the monks caught up 
to them. 

They reached the stone steps leading up to the 
front door of the Hospice. The door swung 
open, and the puppies, with Brother Antoine, 
trudged through the long corridor, down to the 
basement, under the high archways and once 
again were in the big, enclosed yard. The other 


13 


THE HOSPICE DOGS 

dogs crowded about them as they stood proud 
and important, for that day Prince Jan and 
Polio had learned the first lesson on the trail. 
But they both knew that this was only play and 
their real work would come when the snow piled 
so deep about the walls of the Hospice that it 
almost reached the high, peaked roof. 


Chapter II 
The Land of Snow 


E lesson of the trail had to be repeated 



several times, before the two puppies 


understood just what they were ex¬ 
pected to do. Day after day their mother told 
them more about the brave deeds of the St. Ber¬ 
nard dogs, for the work of the mother-dogs of 
the Hospice was to teach the puppies to be 
kindly, obedient and loyal to the trust placed in 
them by the good monks. 

July and August, the two months that were 
called the summer-time at the Hospice, passed 
swiftly, and Jan and Hollo knew that very soon 
it would be winter. The first big snow storm 
blew over the mountains early in September, 
while Jan and his brother slept, warm and snug, 
beside their mother. Next morning no sun could 
be seen, and when the dogs rushed into the 
enclosures, dark clouds, shrieking winds, and 
sheets of driving snow told them that winter had 


14 


THE LAND OF SNOW 15 

begun and soon there would be hard work for 
them all. 

Jan and Rollo quivered with excitement and 
envy when they saw the older dogs pass through 
the long corridors that day, and each time one of 
the monks came into the basement where the 
dogs waited, all of them started to their feet and 
wagged their tails, hoping to be taken out for 
work. 

While Jan and Rollo watched and waited, 
their mother talked to them. 

“Sometimes,’' she said, “you will find a white 
mound, and you must never pass it by without 
digging to see if any one is under it. You have 
learned already that when you find a man, you 
must lick his face and hands to waken him, and 
if you cannot rouse him, so that he will stand up, 
or put his arms about your neck, you must hurry 
to the Hospice to bring the monks. That way, 
you may save a life, and then, perhaps, you will 
have a collar or a medal, like Barry, and travel¬ 
lers who sit in the big room will be told that you 
were worthy of your ancestors.” 

“Tell us about the Big Room,” begged Rollo, 
while Jan gave a gentle little nudge of his nose 
to coax his mother. Both of them had heard 


16 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


many times from their mother, from Bruno, and 
the other older dogs, about the Big Room, yet 
they never tired hearing of it. Now they 
bunched themselves into furry balls with their 
heads against their mother’s soft breast, as she 
began: ‘Tn the Big Room are many beautiful 
pictures that have been sent from travellers res¬ 
cued by our kinsfolk. Sometimes a handsome 
collar is sent to a dog that has saved a life, but 
the greatest honor of all was the medal that was 
given to Barry, and the beautiful marble monu¬ 
ment that you puppies have seen near the Hos¬ 
pice. Your father had a collar sent to him by 
the men he saved. They knew he would never 
wear it, but they asked that it be hung above the 
fireplace in the Big Room. Some day, I hope 
you, Jan and Rollo, will have collars there. 
Now, run and play,” she ended, giving each pup 
a push with her nose. “Even though you cannot 
go out to-day, you must romp, for that will make 
your backs and legs strong. If you are not 
strong you will be sent away from the Hospice 
and never come back. That is a terrible thing 
for a St. Bernard. I don’t want it to happen to 
either of you!” 

Though it was so cold and stormy, the two 


THE LAND OF SNOW 


17 


dogs leaped to their feet and ran through the 
half-shut door that led to the big enclosure. Jan 
was ahead, and Rollo scampered after him. 
Around and around the yard they went, dodging 
each other until Rollo managed to catch the tip 
of his brother’s fuzzy tail. This did not make 
Jan stop running, so Rollo was dragged after 
him through the heaps of snow, rolling over 
and over but clinging tightly until Jan turned 
and pounced upon him. They tumbled about, 
sometimes Jan was on top, sometimes Rollo, and 
they looked like a huge, yellow spider with eight 
sturdy, furry legs kicking wildly. At last, pant¬ 
ing, they sprawled facing each other with pink 
tongues hanging from their open mouths and 
eyes twinkling merrily. 

The sound of Brother Antoine’s voice made 
them look up quickly, and they saw two visitors 
were with him. The dogs were accustomed to 
visitors, for in the summer many people came to 
see the Hospice and the dogs, but in the winter 
the strangers sought refuge from storms. 

“Come on, Rollo,” called Jan, as the monk 
and the men with him came down the steps. 
“There’s Brother Antoine. I’ll beat you to him! 
Show him how fast we can run!” 


18 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Before Jan had finished, the two puppies were 
tearing madly toward the monk and the other 
men. One of these strangers wore a long fur 
overcoat, the other was a much younger man 
with kindly grey eyes. Jan won the race, but 
was going so fast that he could not stop until he 
bumped against this grey-eyed man, who smiled 
and leaned down to pat him. Jan squirmed 
around and touched the hand with his nose, then 
edged nearer Brother Antoine, who called the 
dogs about him. 

It was a splendid sight to see them cross 
the enclosure, their great heads held proudly, 
their eyes beaming with intelligence and kind¬ 
ness, the strong muscles moving beneath the 
tawny skins, as though each one of them, old 
and young, understood that the honor of his fore¬ 
fathers must be guarded from any act that would 
injure it. 

Bruno limped slowly, Jan’s mother walked 
sedately beside him, back of them were Jupitiere, 
Junon, Mars, Vulcan, Pluton, Leon, and among 
the older dogs came those the same age as Jan 
and Rollo, followed by the mothers with still 
smaller puppies. They reached a place in the 
yard where all of them stopped, and though the 


I 


THE LAND OF SNOW 


19 


man in the fur coat, who stood a distance back 
of Brother Antoine and the younger man, called 
to them, the dogs only wagged their tails and did 
not go any closer. 

“You will have to come further,” said the 
monk. “The dogs know that they must not 
cross to you, for the first thing a puppy learns 
is to respect the boundary line.” 

The fur-coated man moved to where Brother 
Antoine and the other man stood, then the dogs 
grouped about while the monk talked to the 
visitors. 

“They seem to understand every word you 
say,” the old man spoke. “Their eyes are so 
intelligent.” 

“They are living sermons on obedience, 
loyalty, and self-sacrifice,” answered Brother 
Antoine’s gentle voice. “Not one of these dogs 
would hesitate to risk his life to save his most 
bitter enemy. That has been their heritage for 
almost a thousand years, now.” 

“Natural instinct counts for a great deal,” 
the grey-eyed man spoke as he looked into the 
upturned faces of the dogs, “but the patient 
training you give them has developed it.” 

“The older dogs help us teach the youngsters,” 


20 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


went on the monk, whose hand rested on Jan’s 
head. “We send out four dogs each morning— 
two younger ones and two of the old ones. One 
pair goes on the trail down the Italian slope 
toward Aosta, the other travels the Swiss path 
leading to Martigny. None of them turns back 
until the last cabin of refuge has been reached, 
where they look to see if any person is waiting. 
It is not unusual for the dogs to stay out all night 
in a hard storm. There have been many in¬ 
stances of their remaining away for two days 
and nights, without food or shelter, though at 
any time they could have come home.” 

“Our guide showed us the cabin,” interrupted 
the older man. “The footprints of the dogs 
proved they had been there a short time before 
us. We followed their tracks until the storm 
covered them. It was a lucky thing the storm 
did not break earlier.” 

“The dogs would have found you, Mr. Pix- 
ley,” the monk replied. “You see, since we have 
had a telephone from the Hospice, each time 
travellers start up the trails, we know when 
they leave Martigny or Aosta and how many are 
on the way. If they do not reach here in reason¬ 
able time, or a storm breaks, we send out the 


THE LAND OF SNOW 


21 


dogs at once. It was much harder in the other 
days, before we had telephones, for we could not 
tell how many poor souls were struggling in the 
snow. The dogs seemed to understand, too, and 
so they kept on searching until they believed 
they had found all.” 

‘T would not have attempted this trip had I 
not been assured that it was too early for a bad 
storm,” said Mr. Pixley. “It is foolhardy, not 
courageous, to face these mountains in a winter 
storm. I cannot imagine any one being so rash 
as to try it, but I suppose many do?” 

“During the winter only poor peasants travel 
the Pass,” was Brother Antoine’s answer. “They 
cross from Italy to seek work in the vineyards 
of France or Switzerland for the summer. When 
summer is over they return home this way, be¬ 
cause it would mean a long and expensive trip 
by rail, which would take all they have earned 
for a whole year. An entire family will travel 
together, and often the youngest will be a babe 
in its mother’s arms.” 

“I should think they would wait till later in 
the summer, and take no risks.” 

“Only the good God knows when a snow 
storm will overtake one in the Pass of Great St. 


22 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Bernard,” Brother Antoine said. “Even in our 
summer months, when a light shower of rain falls 
in the Valley below, it becomes a heavy snow 
up here, and many people are taken unawares. 
After winter really begins, in September, the 
snow is often from seven to ten feet deep and 
the drifts pile up against the walls of the Hos¬ 
pice as high as the third story roof.” 

“I had planned to visit Berne,” Mr. Pixley 
spoke now, “but after this sample of your win¬ 
ter weather I have decided to return home to 
California. I do not enjoy snow storms. We 
have none where I live, you know.” 

Brother Antoine nodded. “Yes, I know; but 
I hope some day you will visit Berne and see 
Barry. His skin was mounted and is kept in 
the Museum at Berne. You know his record? 
He saved forty-two people and died in 1815, 
just after the terrible storm that cost the lives 
of almost all the Hospice dogs. Only three St. 
Bernards lived through those days—Barry, 
Pluto, and Pallas. A few crawled home to die 
of exhaustion and cold; the rest lie buried under 
thousands of feet of snow, but they all died like 
heroes!” 

“A glorious record!” exclaimed the younger 


THE LAND OF SNOW 


23 


man, who had been patting Jan while the others 
talked. ‘T remember, when I was a very small 
boy, that I found a picture in a book. It showed 
a St. Bernard dog digging a man from the snow, 
and last night I recognized the picture in that 
painting which hangs over the fireplace in the 
refectory.” 

“It was a gift from a noted artist,” replied the 
monk. “The dogs used to carry a little saddle 
with a warm shawl, but the extra weight was 
hard on them, so we do not use the saddle any 
longer, but a flagon, or wooden keg of white 
brandy that we call ‘kirsch,’ is fastened to the 
collar, together with a bell, so that the tinkling 
will tell that help is near, even though it may be 
too dark for any one to see the dog.” 

“I notice that most of the dogs are short- 
haired,” the grey-eyed man observed. “Such 
fur as this pup’s would afford better protection 
against the cold. He has a magnificent coat of 
hair!” 

“That is the only point against him,” said 
Brother Antoine. “During the big storm of 
1815 we learned that long-haired dogs break 
down from the snow clinging and freezing like 
a coat of mail; or the thick hair holding moisture 


24 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

developed pneumonia. We brought Newfound¬ 
land dogs to fill the kennels when only three St. 
Bernards were left, but the long, heavy hair of 
the new breed that was part Newfoundland and 
part St. Bernard proved a failure. They could 
not stand the snow storms. Now, we very rarely 
keep a long-haired pup. He is generally sold 
or presented to some one who will give him kind 
treatment.” 

Jan looked suddenly at Rollo and the other 
puppies near him. All except himself had short 
hair. Now he remembered his mother’s worried 
eyes each time the monks had examined him. 
He hurried to her side and pushed her with his 
nose, as he whispered, “Mother, will they send 
me away because I have long hair? You know. 
Brother Antoine said that I was one of the best 
dogs they have had for a long time!” 

“Don’t worry, Jan,” she soothed him. “Even 
though your fur is long, you are so strong and 
so like your father, who had long hair, too, that 
I am sure you will be kept here. Hurry, Jan! 
Brother Antoine is calling you back.” 

Jan pushed among the other dogs until he 
stood again at the monk’s side. The two 


THE LAND OF SNOW 25 

strangers looked at Jan, and Brother Antoine 
touched the pup’s head lovingly. 

“His father was one of our best dogs,” the 
monk spoke. “But that was not surprising. He 
was a direct descendant of Barry. Four travel¬ 
lers owe their lives to Jan’s father, Rex.” 

The little fellow tried not to look too proud as 
he listened again to the story his mother had told 
him and Rollo many times. 

“Rex was guiding four men to the Hospice 
after a big storm last Fall. It was the worst 
since 1815. The men told us the story after they 
reached us. They had lost all hope, their guide 
had fallen down a crevasse and they were ex¬ 
hausted when Rex found them. They knew 
that their only chance of life was to follow him. 
He went ahead, moving very slowly and looking 
back while he barked to encourage them. An 
ice-bridge had formed. It was hidden by deep 
snow and they did not understand the danger 
that Rex knew so well. The dog went ahead, the 
men keeping closely behind him. Half way 
across he turned and began barking fiercely, and 
as they drew nearer, he started toward them 
uttering savage snarls. 

“They thought the dog had gone mad, and 


26 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


backed away as he advanced threateningly. 
Then suddenly his snarl turned to a mournful 
howl that was lost in frightful cracking as the 
ice-bridge broke away. Rex was never seen 
again, but his warning prevented those four men 
from being smothered in the chasm under hun¬ 
dreds of feet of snow. So, you see, this little 
fellow comes of royal blood. That is why we 
named him ‘Prince Jan.’ He looks just like his 
father, too!” 

Jan thrust his warm nose into Brother 
Antoine’s hand. 

“I want to be like my father and Barry,” he 
said, hoping they would understand him, as he 
understood them. “I will do my very best to be 
worthy of them both!” 

The visitors and the monk did not know what 
J an said, but the other dogs understood. 
Bruno’s dim eyes beamed on the pup. 

“You will be a credit to us all. Prince Jan!” 

The strangers and Brother Antoine left the 
yard, and the dogs formed in little groups to 
talk among themselves, as they always did when 
new people came to see them. 

“That man came from America,” Bruno said 
to Jan’s mother. 


THE LAND OF SNOW 


27 


“Lots of people from America visit us,” she 
replied, trying not to yawn, for the storm had 
kept her awake. All night, while she felt the 
warm little bodies of the puppies pressed against 
her side, she had stared into the darkness, think¬ 
ing of the time when Prince Jan and his brother 
must go out, like their father, Rex, to do the 
work of the St. Bernards. 

“Yes,” Bruno added in a queer voice, “but 
this man said he was from California, where they 
never have any snow!” 

“What?” shouted all the dogs together. “A 
place where they never have any snow? Oh, 
what a funny place that must be!” 

“What do they walk on?” asked Jan’s mother 
curiously. 

Before Bruno could answer, Jan shoved up 
and said earnestly: “But, mother, how do dogs 
save people where there is no snow?” 

“I am sure I don’t know,” she told him. “Ask 
Bruno.” 

Neither Bruno nor any of the other dogs could 
explain this mystery, though Jan went to each 
in turn for an answer to his question. At last 
he lay down, his nose wedged between his paws, 
his yellow forehead wrinkled with thought, and 


28 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


he stared across at the tops of the great white 
peaks above the enclosure until his soft eyes 
closed in sleep. Soon he was dreaming that he 
was digging travellers from the snow and asking 
them, “Won’t you please tell me how a dog can 
save people in a land where there is no snow?” 

But none of them could answer his question. 


Chapter III 
A New World 

T he next morning Mr. Pixley and 
Brother Antoine returned to the kennel 
yard and Jan wagged his tail politely 
to show that he recognized the visitor, who 
leaned down and patted him while talking to the 
monk. 

“You may be sure he will receive the very best 
care,” said the man from California. 

“We are always treated kindly,” Prince Jan 
hastened to say, and he glanced at Hollo, who 
replied, “Of course, we are!” 

The two pups did not notice Mr. Pixley’s 
next words, ‘‘My little girl will be delighted with 
him.” 

Brother Antoine called, “Here, Jan,” and 
when the little fellow stood looking up with 
bright, expectant eyes, the monk fastened a col¬ 
lar about the dog’s neck. 

Jan trembled. He was sure that he was now; 
29 


30 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


going to be sent out to do his first work on the 
trail. It would not be playing this time, but 
real work like the big dogs. The collar was stiff 
but he did not mind the discomfort, for it meant 
that he was not a puppy any longer. He 
twisted his head to see which of the older dogs 
was to go out with him, as he crossed the for¬ 
bidden line with the monk. The only dog that 
followed Jan was his brother, Rollo, and when 
Brother Antoine ordered, ‘‘Go back, Rollo!” 
the pup’s ears and tail drooped and he slunk back 
to his mother as though in disgrace. 

“The big dogs must be waiting outside,” 
thought Jan happily, and he walked proudly 
beside the monk until he stood on the top step, 
then he looked back proudly at his mother, 
Bruno, Rollo, and the other dogs who were 
watching him. Usually they all barked joyously 
when a pup was to go out on his first real work, 
and the noisy barks were advice. Now, the only 
sounds were two short barks from Bruno, “Good¬ 
bye, Jan! Remember your father!” 

The pup’s head lifted proudly. “I will re¬ 
member him!” he called back, and then he won¬ 
dered at the long, despairing howl from his 
mother. It filled his heart with dread. 


A NEW WORLD 


31 


“Come, Jan,” the monk spoke, and the little 
fellow turned obediently toward the door that 
would shut him from sight of the other dogs. 
His feet dragged now, and as he passed through 
the doorway leading to the long corridor he 
looked back once more. 

When he stood outside the big entrance door, 
he saw the snow covering the mountains and 
hiding the chasms that he had seen in the summer 
when he had been out having his lessons with 
Rollo. He knew these smooth, level places held 
real danger. Then he saw dog tracks leading in 
two directions from the steps, but none of the 
older dogs were waiting for him. As he looked 
up with questioning, brown eyes. Brother An¬ 
toine leaned down and fastened a stout rope to 
the new collar and handed the end of this rope 
to Mr. Pixley, who was muffled in his big, fur 
coat. A guide was with Mr. Pixley. As they 
stood there a moment, the door of the Hospice 
again opened, and this time the grey-eyed man 
and another guide came out. The kind, grey 
eyes looked at Jan, then the man stooped over 
and patted him gently, and no one but the dog 
heard the pitying voice that said, “Poor little 
Prince Jan! Good-bye!” 


32 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Brother Antoine lifted Jan’s nose and the 
pup looked into the monk’s eyes, but there was 
something he did not understand. It was all so 
different from what the other dogs had told him. 
He felt the rope tug his collar and knew that he 
must follow this stranger. He heard again a 
heart-rending howl from his mother, “Good-bye, 
Jan, good-bye!” Bruno’s voice blended with 
hers, and then the voices of all the dogs Jan knew 
and loved mingled in that call. Something hurt 
him all over, but most of the hurt was in his 
heart. 

He halted suddenly, pulled stiffly on the 
rope and the wild Cry he sent in response echoed 
mournfully from the high, white crags and died 
away to a whispering moan, as Prince Jan, with 
low-hanging head and drooping tail, travelled 
down the path that his ancestors had trodden 
many years on their errands of mercy. He won¬ 
dered why he had been sent out with a rope tied 
to his collar, why no older dog went with him, 
and why he must follow this stranger instead of 
one of the monks. Jan felt that he was dis¬ 
graced. Someway he had failed. For a while he 
followed despondently, then he tried to comfort 
himself as he trudged at the end of the rope. 


A NEW WORLD 


33 


“Bruno and mother will know what is the 
matter,” he thought hopefully. “I’ll ask them 
as soon as I get home to-night.” 

He looked back wistfully several times to see 
if the kindly, grey-eyed stranger might be fol¬ 
lowing them, but he had taken the opposite trail 
from the one Mr. Pixley was travelling. Jan did 
not mind the long tramp which ended at a place 
where houses were scattered about. Here a car¬ 
riage and horses were brought, and Jan would 
have been much interested in these strange 
things had he not been so worried. He felt him¬ 
self lifted into the carriage with Mr. Pixley; 
then, as it moved, Jan was thrown against the 
fur coat and looked up in fright. 

“You are going to a new land,” Mr. Pixley 
said, smoothing the pup’s velvety ear. 

The dog lifted one paw and laid it on the 
man’s knee, the brown eyes that looked up were 
dull with misery. Jan knew, now, that he was 
being taken away from the Hospice. 

“Won’t you take me back?” he begged. 

But the man only heard a little whimper, and 
gave the dog a quick pat. “You and Elizabeth 
will be great friends. Lie down now and be 
quiet!” 


34 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

Jan dropped to the floor of the carriage, his 
head between his paws, and his eyes that stared 
at the strange new master were full of wistful 
pleading. 

After that ride came days in a big, dark place 
that bumped and jerked with horrible noises. 
He did not know that he was on a train. Jan had 
lived all his life where the only disturbing sounds 
were the soft thud of melting snow and the hiss¬ 
ing of the avalanches down the mountain sides. 
These strange noises hurt his ears. The pain in 
his heart kept growing until he could only lie 
still and draw his breath in smothered little 
whimpers that tore the inside of his throat. He 
could not eat nor drink. 

When Mr. Pixley took him from the train, 
the dog was led through crowds of people and 
bustling, noisy streets that made Jan cringe and 
cower. At last they reached a place where water 
stretched so far that it touched the sky, and the 
water kept moving all the time. This frightened 
him, for he had never seen any water excepting in 
the little lake at the Hospice, and that water did 
not move, for it was nearly always frozen over. 
Bewildered, Jan hung back, but the man to 
whom Mr. Pixley had handed the rope dragged 


A NEW WORLD 


35 


the dog up a walk of boards to a strange-looking 
house on top of the water. Jan stumbled down 
the dark stairs, into a hot, smelly place where 
he was fastened to a wall. An old sack was 
thrown down, water and meat placed before him, 
then he was left alone. Whistles screamed, bells 
jangled, all sorts of noises pounded Jan’s shrink¬ 
ing, sensitive ears as he cowered in an agony of 
fear. The boat moved; but he thought, as it 
puffed and trembled, that a huge, strange animal 
had swallowed him alive. 

The rolling motion made him very sick. He 
could neither eat nor sleep, but grew stiff and 
sore during the days and nights he was kept tied 
in the hold of the vessel. Homesick and lone¬ 
some, poor little Prince Jan lay for hours crying 
softly, but the only attention any one gave him 
was to fill pans with water and food. 

One day two women, wearing white caps on 
their heads, climbed down the stairs with a little 
girl and boy. The children ran and put their 
arms about the dog’s neck and Jan wriggled and 
squirmed with happiness, while he licked their 
hands and faces. 

“Don’t touch him,” cried one of the women, 


36 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


pulling the girl away. ‘‘He is filthy, beside, he 
might bite you.” 

The child drew back in alarm. Jan’s gentle 
eyes watched them and his tail waved slowly, 
trying to make them know that he loved them 
and would not hurt them or anybody in the 
world. 

“He won’t hurt us. Nurse,” the boy declared 
and put his hand on the dog’s big head. “I 
don’t care whether he’s dirty or clean, he’s a 
bully fine dog, and I wish he belonged to me and 
sister!” 

“Oh, if they will only stay with me!” hoped 
Jan. “Maybe they would understand and some 
day take me back to the Hospice.” 

The boy smiled into Jan’s eyes, but he did 
not know what the dog was trying to say. 

“Come, children, we must go,” one of the 
women spoke. “Now, you have seen a dog that 
cost over a thousand dollars and is being taken 
to live in California, where oranges grow and 
there is never any snow.” 

Jan turned quickly. He remembered all the 
dogs at the Hospice had talked about the place 
where there was never any snow. 

“How can a dog save lives where there is no 


A NEW WORLD 


37 


snow?” he asked; but the women and children, 
as they turned away, thought he was whining 
because they were leaving him alone. 

With miserable eyes Jan lay staring into the 
dark, wondering how he could be like his father 
and Barry in a country where there was no snow. 


Chapter IV 

The Land of No Snow 



[HE voyage ended, then followed another 


long trip in a train and Jan reached his 


new home. A little girl with long, yel¬ 
low curls, big blue eyes, and pink cheeks, danced 
down the steps from the wide porch of a big 
house as they approached. 

Mr. Pixley caught her in his arms, then put 
her on the ground and called to Jan, who was 
still in the automobile which had met them at 
the station. The dog leaped out and ran to the 
child, looking into her face, while his tail bobbed 
and waved. 

“Oh, you beautiful Prince Jan!” she cried, 
throwing her arms about his neck and squeezing 
him tightly. “I love you!” 

Jan’s tongue caressed her hands, touched her 
cheek, and his body squirmed and twisted, then 
he flopped on the ground and rolled on his back, 
waving his paws to show that he loved her. 


38 


THE LAND OF NO SNOW 39 


Obeying her call, he trotted beside her, past 
strange trees growing on stretches of fresh, green 
grass. Jan looked about him and saw that this 
new stuff that was so soft when he walked upon 
it, reached down to the blue water, and that water 
sparkled as far as he could see, and then it 
seemed to become a part of the sky. Wonder¬ 
ful things that gave out delicate perfume formed 
brilliant patches about the house and even clung 
high up on the walls. Later, he learned these 
things were flowers, and when the wind blew 
softly, they bent and swayed like lovely ladies 
in their prettiest gowns, bowing and dancing. 
From the thick leaves of the trees floated songs 
of hidden birds. Jan’s head turned quickly 
from side to side, trying to see everything and 
understand what he saw, but the most wonderful 
thing to him was the dear little mistress, who 
talked to him as if she knew he understood her 
words. 

All the people in the big house were very 
kind to Jan, and he soon grew accustomed to his 
new home. His only duty was to take care of 
Elizabeth, who was so gentle and loving that he 
was glad and proud to guard her. Wherever 
she went, he went, too. 


40 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

The governess heard Elizabeth’s lessons out 
on the lawn under the shade of an orange tree, 
and Jan kept close at hand, watching the little 
girl’s face, and waiting patiently for the lesson 
to end. Then a pony was led to the front door, 
and as Elizabeth rode over the firm sand of the 
beach, Jan raced beside her, barking or rushing 
out to fight back a wave that was sneaking too 
close. He loved the water, and the best time 
of all, he thought, was when his mistress took 
her swimming lesson and he could plough 
through the waves beside her. Often she would 
lie on her back in the hissing, white surf, hold¬ 
ing to Jan’s collar until they both landed on the 
warm sand. Sometimes the two of them would 
dig a big hole, and the dog would scrunch into 
it, while she buried him until only his nose and 
eyes could be seen. Jan was so happy that at 
times he forgot the Hospice and the work his 
mother had told him he must do. When he did 
remember it, he would puzzle over and over, 
“But, how can I save people’s lives here, where 
there is never any snow, and every one is happy 
and safe?” 

Christmas came, and there was a glittering 
tree with lights and beautiful things on it. All 


THE LAND OF NO SNOW 41 

the family patted Jan when Elizabeth took down 
a handsome collar. 

“This is for you, Jan,” she said. 

As she fastened it about his neck, he thought 
of the big room at the Hospice, but he knew, 
now, no collar of his would ever hang there. 
Suddenly, all the old longing for the Hospice 
dogs and the work made him walk slowly out of 
the house and lie down on the front porch, where 
he could see the blue ocean dancing in the warm 
sunshine, the soft, green grass, and the beautiful 
flowers. 

“Oh, if I could only go back home to the 
snow and do my work there!” he wished, and 
then, in a little while he fell sound asleep. 

The Fairy of Happy Dreams was very busy 
that Christmas Day, and when she flew over 
Prince Jan and saw he was so lonesome and 
homesick, she touched him with her magic wand 
and fluttered away, smiling. 

And Prince Jan dreamed he was at the door 
of the Hospice. The little wooden keg hung 
from his collar. Polio, with another collar and 
keg, romped beside him, pulling playfully at 
Jan’s hairy neck, while Brother Antoine and 
other monks stood on the upper step, smiling 


42 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


and saying, “He is just like his father, and Rex 
was descended from Barry! Prince Jan is of 
royal blood. He will be a credit to his ances¬ 
tors!” 

In the dream, Jan bounded away through the 
crisp, biting air, his big paws sinking in the cold, 
fluffy snow. Oh, how good it felt! 

“My time has come! My time has come!” he 
shouted as he leaped with joy. 

“Jan! Jan! Remember your father!” his 
mother and Bruno called after him. 

“I will,” he answered. Then he and Rollo 
raced down the slippery path, their voices, like 
deep-sounding bells, giving forth the cry of the 
St. Bernards. They trod over ice-bridges, 
ploughed through deep drifts, sliding and floun¬ 
dering, following the trail of their forefathers, 
and sniffing as they ran. 

Suddenly Jan stopped and thrust his nose 
into a deep drift. Then he and Rollo dug fu¬ 
riously, until Jan cried, “Run, Rollo, run to the 
Plospice!” 

Rollo whirled and disappeared, while Jan’s 
rough tongue licked the snow until he saw the 
round, soft face of a child, and beneath that 
child lay its mother. Both were very quiet. 


THE LAND OF NO SNOW 43 


Jan licked their faces, he pushed them with his 
nose to rouse them, then he crowded his warm 
body closely against them, and his eyes watched 
the trail. Soon he gave a wild yelp, for he saw 
Hollo coming and back of him hurried Brother 
Antoine and one of the men of the Hospice who 
helped on the trail. 

The men lifted the woman and child, and 
wrapped them in warm shawls, then they unfas¬ 
tened the keg from Jan’s collar, and as the 
woman opened her eyes they made her drink the 
liquid. Some of it was given to the child. 
Brother Antoine carried the little one in. hfe 
arms while the other man held the woman, and 
Jan and Rollo trotted ahead of them to beat 
down the snow and make the path easier to 
travel. Bruno and the other dogs in the kennel 
yard sent back answering calls to Jan and Bollo. 
The door opened and kindly hands received the 
woman and child, and carried them to shelter and 
warmth. 

Brother Antoine stooped and patted Jan’s 
head, and brushed off snow that still clung to the 
long hair on the dog’s back, saying very softly, 
“The Blessed Mother guided you, Jan; for you 


44 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

have saved a mother and child on Christmas 

Dayr’ 

Then he heard laughter and voices saying, 
“Jan is dreaming again I Wake up, Jan!” 

He woke to see waving palms, green grass, 
flowers, and the warm sunshine of a land where 
there is never any snow. His heart, which had 
been throbbing madly with joy, grew sad. He 
looked at his little mistress and her friends smil¬ 
ing at him so kindly, and wished he could tell 
them his dream and beg them to send him back 
where he could be useful and do the work of his 
father and Barry. 

But the talk of dogs is different from ours; 
even people who speak the same language often 
misunderstand one another. Once in a great 
while some person is wise enough and good 
enough to understand what dogs try to say, but 
Prince Jan’s little mistress, though she loved 
him dearly, never knew what was in his heart. 

The months slipped away until Jan was fully 
grown. His tawny-red and white hair was as 
soft as silk, and when he put his paws on a 
man’s shoulders, their eyes were the same height. 
In spite of his strength and size, he was gentle 


THE LAND OF NO SNOW 45 


and kind. Every one loved him and he loved 
everybody. 

The only sadness in his life was in knowing 
that he could not help people in a place where 
there was no snow. One night, as he came on 
the porch, Jan thought it was snowing, and he 
raced to the spot where he had seen the flakes 
falling in the bright moonlight; but when he 
pushed his nose into the white glistening things 
beneath a tree, he found they were only petals 
from the orange blossoms, the perfumed snow¬ 
flakes of California, and Jan lay down among 
them, the old longing for his home and his work 
tugging at his heart. 


Chapter V 

Jan Learns to Hate 

F our happy years passed by. Elizabeth 
had grown into a beautiful young lady, 
but she loved Jan as much as ever, and 
he was always at her side. 

Then one morning when Jan, as usual, went 
to the front porch to tell Mr. Pixley that break¬ 
fast was ready, there was no one sitting in the 
rocker where Jan expected to find his master 
reading the paper, and no kindly voice called, 
“All right, Jan! Tell them I’m coming!” 

Slowly the dog went back to the big dining¬ 
room. But Elizabeth and her mother were not 
in their accustomed places, either. Puzzled, he 
trotted through the hallway and up the wide 
stairs, following the sound of murmuring voices 
in Mr. Pixley’s room. Through the half-open 
door Jan saw two strange men talking to Eliza¬ 
beth and her mother. On the bed, very white 
and quiet, Mr. Pixley was lying. 

46 


JAN LEARNS TO HATE 


47 


“The only chance is an operation by Dr. Corey 
of London,” one of the men spoke to Mrs. Pix- 
ley, and the other man nodded. 

“We can cable to London and have him sail 
immediately for New York, while we are on our 
way from here,” added the second man to Eliza¬ 
beth, who was watching them very anxiously. 

“Do you think my father can stand the trip?” 
she asked. 

“It would be less dangerous than losing time 
for Dr. Corey to come to California after he 
reaches New York,” both doctors declared. 

Jan saw that Elizabeth’s eyes were full of 
tears and he slipped softly to her and pushed 
his nose into her hand. She glanced down and 
tried to smile at him, but her lips trembled and 
she hurried to her room. Mrs. Pixley followed 
her, and when Jan found them, Elizabeth was 
crying in her mother’s arms, while Mrs. Pixley, 
whose own face was wet with tears, tried to com¬ 
fort her. After awhile they began talking in 
low tones, and Jan edged between their closely- 
drawn chairs, wishing very hard that he could 
understand what it all meant. He would have 
been as much worried as they were, had he known 
that Mr. Pixley’s life could only be saved by the 


48 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


famous surgeon from England, and that even if 
the operation were successful it would mean that 
Elizabeth and her parents would have to be away 
from home many months. But Jan was only 
, a dog, so their words meant nothing to him. 

After that hour everything was in confusion. 
Servants hurried about, trunks were dragged 
into Elizabeth’s room, and clothes were carried 
from closets and packed into the empty trunks. 
Every once in a while Jan would look down into 
a trunk, then watch Elizabeth with his puzzled 
eyes. 

She saw his worried look and paused in her 
packing to pet him, then suddenly she turned 
to her mother and said, “Oh, mother! What 
about Jan?” 

“It will be impossible to take him with us, 
for we will have to stay in a hotel, and that would 
be hard on Jan, and an additional care for us, 
dear. Then, we may have to go to London as 
soon as your father is able to travel after the 
operation. Dr. Corey could not stay in New 
York so long.” 

“I suppose the servants will be kind to Jan,” 
went on Jan’s mistress, “but I would feel better 


JAN LEARNS TO HATE 


49 


if old John and Mary were still here. They 
loved Jan and he loved them.” 

“These new servants seem to be all right,” re¬ 
plied Mrs. Pixley. “They know how fond we 
are of Jan, and I will ask them to be kind to 
him.” 

“He’s such a dear old fellow, and never makes 
any trouble, and I don’t believe any one could 
help loving him!” exclaimed Elizabeth, catching 
the dog’s long, silky ears and pulling them gently 
while his eyes, shining with devotion, looked into 
her own. 

Before noon the next day the trunks had been 
strapped and taken away. Then Jan saw Mr. 
Pixley lifted into the automobile where Mrs. 
Pixley was arranging pillows. Elizabeth came 
slowly down the steps of the porch with Jan at 
her side. Then she stooped and took his head 
between her hands and gazed intently at him. 

“Good-bye, Jan! I’ll come back again!” 

That was what she always said when she was 
going away for a short time; so Jan wagged his 
tail and touched her pink cheek with the tip of 
his tongue. He watched the automobile turn 
among the orange trees that bordered the wind¬ 
ing driveway and waited for a last glimpse of it 


50 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

through the trees. He knew that Elizabeth 
would turn and call to him when she reached that 
point. 

His ears cocked up and his eyes were bright 
as the machine came into sight. Then he saw his 
dear mistress look back at him, her hand waved 
and her voice called, “Good-bye, Prince Jan! 
Be a good dog!” 

“Woof! Woof!” he answered, as he always 
answered her “good-bye” call. Then the auto¬ 
mobile vanished among the trees. 

It was summer time and the middle of the day 
was very warm, so Jan decided he would take a 
swim in the ocean. It was great sport battling 
the huge waves while white sea-gulls darted 
screaming over his head, fearing he would steal 
the fish they hoped to catch and eat. Cooled 
by the water, he returned to the front porch and 
stretched out where he could see the road, for 
he always ran and welcomed his folks when they 
came home from their drives. He was very 
happy and comfortable until the new house¬ 
keeper came out with a broom. 

“Get off, you dirty beast!” she cried, shaking 
the broom over his head. “This porch was 
washed to-day.” 


JAN LEARNS TO HATE 


51 


Jan jumped up in surprise. No one had ever 
spoken to him that way. The old housekeeper, 
who had gone away, had been his friend. When¬ 
ever the family was absent at night Jan had 
kept her company in her room, and she always 
had cookies there for him. John, her husband, 
had been the old stableman. 

The broom waved nearer. He looked into 
the woman’s angry face, then walked down the 
front steps. 

‘T’ll go to the stable till Elizabeth comes 
home,” he thought as he went toward the back 
of the house. 

But, John, the stableman, who had cared for 
the handsome horses of the Pixleys until automo¬ 
biles filled the carriage house, had gone away to 
another place where people still used horses. 
John had been Jan’s loyal friend. The new man, 
William Leavitt, had not made friends with Jan, 
but there were many nice dark places, out of 
William’s sight, where Jan often took a nap 
during the heat of the day, and William never 
knew it. 

Jan was making for a favorite spot under the 
old family carriage, when William saw him. 

‘'Get out!” he shouted furiously. 


52 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


The dog stopped. William came closer and 
lifting his hand, threw a monkey-wrench at Jan. 
It missed him, and the dog hurried away to the 
garden, where many trees made dense shadows. 
There was a spot under a low-hanging pepper 
tree where Jan dug into the cool, moist earth until 
he had made a nice, big hole. Then he lay down 
and uttered a sigh of content. His eyes closed 
and soon he was sound asleep. 

A vicious kick wakened him, and he leaped 
to his feet to see the gardener standing over him 
swearing. Jan ran away, but stood a short dis¬ 
tance off, watching the man fill up the hole under 
the tree. As the man finished the work, he saw 
the dog and hurled a stone which struck above 
Jan’s eye, making a jagged cut that started to 
bleed. 

Half-mad with pain, Jan ran until he found 
a place in the orange grove, far back from the 
house, and trembling, he huddled down. His 
heart thumped and again he suffered from the 
fear of things he did not understand just as he 
had felt when his mother howled on the day he 
had been led from the Hospice. 

‘Tf only Elizabeth will come back soon,” he 


JAN LEARNS TO HATE 


53 


thought, ‘‘everything will be right again, and the 
servants won’t be cross to me any more.” 

The excitement of abuse for the first time in 
his life and the pain from the wounded eye, 
which was swollen shut, made him feverish, but 
he kept hidden all day, suffering from thirst 
rathe^than risk further ill-treatment, and all the 
time he was listening for the sound of wheels and 
the voice of Elizabeth calling him. 

The sun went down, but the family had not 
come home. Then it grew very quiet and dark, 
and Jan crawled to the back of the house for food 
and water, which were always put there at sun¬ 
set for him. He crept like a thief, ready to 
rush back to the orange grove if he heard a step 
approaching. 

Both pans were in the accustomed place, but 
he found them empty. His tongue was so dry 
and hot that he licked each pan in turn. Then 
he went around to the front of the house and 
put his nose to a water faucet, licking it for a 
drop of moisture. The pipe was dry. Jan 
looked out at the ocean, over which the moon 
shone silvery bright, the water sparkled, but he 
knew he could not drink salt water, and even to 
look at it now made him more thirsty. At last. 


54 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

unable to resist any longer, he went to the beach 
and lapped the stinging water that burnt his 
throat. Then he plunged into the surf and swam 
out a short distance. But the waves washed 
over his head and the salt in the wound made him 
cry with pain, until he reached the shore and 
dashed back to the orange grove, where he lay 
moaning pitifully. 

His thirst grew worse. Jan rose to his feet, 
hoping the stable door might be open, as some¬ 
times he had seen it on warm nights, and there 
was a water trough that always had water in it, 
for Elizabeth still rode horseback, though the 
family used the automobiles. The door was 
closed, so he went back to his hiding-place. 

In the morning, almost crazed by thirst, Jan 
again sought the stable. Drawing near, he heard 
water running, and, thinking of nothing else, he 
rushed to the trough where cool, sparkling water 
flowed from the faucet. William was there, too, 
but the dog rose on his hind legs and thrust his 
dry tongue into the water, lapping it in big 
gulps. 

“Get out of that!” he heard William order. 

Jan kept on drinking greedily. Then he felt 
a sharp slash from a carriage whip. He did not 


JAN LEARNS TO HATE 


55 


lift his head. Nothing could drive him from 
the water. The whip struck hard and fast across 
his back, each cut making him shrink, but he 
kept on drinking until his terrible thirst had been 
quenched. Then he dropped his paws from the 
edge of the trough to the floor and turned his 
great head, one eye closed, the other bloodshot 
and glaring hate and defiance, while his teeth 
gleamed and an ugly snarl rumbled in his throat. 

A young fellow who was a stranger to Jan 
came from the back of the building. The dog 
looked at him, then at William, ready to fight 
them both. As Jan started toward them, Wil¬ 
liam moved back. Jan growled. 

“Do you think he’s gone mad. Shorty?” asked 
William uneasily. 

Jan did not know what the words meant, but 
he saw that the man was afraid of him for some 
reason. He gave a fierce snarl and faced them. 

“Wouldn’t drink water if he was mad,” re¬ 
plied Shorty. “Why didn’t you let him alone, 
anyhow? He wasn’t bothering you till you hit 
him.” 

“I hate dogs, and you know it,” retorted Wil¬ 
liam angrily. “It made me sick to see the Pix- 
leys such fools over this one. We all had to 


56 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

stand around and wait on that dog as if he was 
the King of England. I guess he finds out the 
difference now that the family has gone.” 

Shorty moved slowly toward Jan, holding out 
a hand and saying, “You’re all right, old fel¬ 
low!” 

But the dog backed off and his nose twitched 
warningly. He would fight if these men bothered 
him. With a final growl of defiance Jan left 
the stable, but he carried with him a new sense 
of power. He could make people let him alone 
if he snarled and showed his teeth. 

That night he prowled around until he found 
the garbage cans. So he learned to hide in the 
daytime and forage like a wild animal at night. 
If he passed one of the servants, he growled 
and braced himself stiffly, while his hair rose in 
a ridge along his back. One glance at his blood¬ 
shot eyes and big, white teeth was enough to 
make every one, man, woman or child, hurry out 
of his way. 

In the excitement of packing for the trip, 
Elizabeth had neglected to have Jan’s hair 
clipped. Maybe she told the servants to have 
it cut. Now, the long fur heated and worried 
the dog constantly and the fleas nearly drove him 


JAN LEARNS TO HATE 


57 


mad. Day and night, he bit and scratched, tear¬ 
ing out tufts of matted hair until raw, bleeding 
spots made his body a mass of sores. Each day 
he grew more savage. He hated every one now; 
the monks who had sold him, Mr. Pixley who had 
taken him from the Hospice, Miss Elizabeth who 
had deserted him, and the servants who abused 
him. 

‘T wish I could tell the dogs at the Hospice 
not to help people who are lost,’' he thought as 
he lay in the dark. ‘Tf William were lost in the 
snow and I found him, I would fasten my teeth 
in his throat.” 

So, the gentle Prince Jan, whose heart had 
been full of love and trust, and who wanted to 
help every one, became a savage beast, ready to 
fight all people and hating even those whom he 
once had loved and for whom he would have died 
gladly. 


Chapter VI 
The Pound 

S IX months went by and the Pixleys had 
not returned, but Jan did not know that 
Mr. Pixley was still very ill. The dog 
hid or skulked if he met any person, and his 
deep growls and twitching nose were so threat¬ 
ening that no one dared to go nearer. His silky 
hair was rough and ragged, raw bleeding spots 
scarred his body, his eyes were bloodshot and 
his tail was almost bare of the long hair that had 
once made it a beautiful plume. 

His only refuge was the orange grove, where 
he spent the days sleeping or licking the bones 
he stole from garbage pails, for no one ever 
thought to put food or water where he could find 
it. The servants feared and hated him, and he 
hated them but did not fear them. He knew 
his own strength. If any one threatened to 
abuse him, Jan was ready to leap and use his 
sharp teeth, but so long as people let him alone, 
he would not fight. 


58 


THE POUND 


59 


Late one afternoon, he saw William and a 
kindly-looking old man with a long, white beard, 
talking together. They were watching Jan, 
as the dog lay quietly in the hole that was now 
his only home; his eyes rolled but he did not lift 
his head as they came closer. 

“He has no use for me,” said William, giving 
a rope to the other man. “Maybe you can handle 
him alone, but I don’t believe it. He’s as big 
and strong as a lion.” 

William pulled a paper from his pocket and 
held it to the older man, saying, “Here’s a letter 
from Miss Elizabeth Pixley; you can see what 
she says. I wrote her about Jan and asked what 
we should do with him.” 

The name of Elizabeth caused Jan’s ears to 
prick up and the fierce light in his eyes faded. 
The strange man came close to the dog and 
spoke gently. Jan wagged his tail slightly, but 
kept his eyes on the old man’s face. 

“You had better look out,” warned William. 
“He can’t be trusted a minute.” 

Jan glared at the stableman. “I wanted to 
love and help people, not hurt them, until you 
made me fight,” he growled. 

“Look out!” cried William. “He’s showing 


60 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


his teeth. He is the worst dog I have ever seen 
in my life.” 

The older man studied the dog silently, then 
smiled and held out his hand. Jan shrank back 
suspiciously but allowed the hand to touch his 
back. 

‘T think I can manage him,” said the stranger, 
then he added, “Come, Jan. Come with me!” 

The dog rose to his feet and followed unre¬ 
sistingly down the pathway to the front of the 
Pixley home, and past the lawn where he had 
spent so many happy hours, along the firm sand 
on which he had so often raced beside his mis¬ 
tress’s pony in the days gone by. And as he 
trudged slowly, he kept wondering if she had 
sent for him. He remembered how Mr. Pixley 
had led him away from the Hospice at the end 
of a rope, but at the end of the journey Jan had 
found Elizabeth and happiness. He lifted his 
big head and his anxious eyes saw a pitying face 
as a gentle hand lightly touched his back. It 
was quite a long walk and the dog was weak from 
improper food and care. When they entered a 
httle cottage, the old man brought food and 
water, then sat and watched the dog devour them 
ravenously. After the dish had been emptied 


THE POUND 


61 


of all food, Jan stood wagging his tail to show 
his gratitude. The old man laughed. 

“Why, you’re not any more vicious than I 
am. Prince Jan! But, you’re in pretty bad 
shape.” 

He did not tie the rope, but let it drop on the 
floor while he brought a small tin tub full of 
warm suds, and gently sponged the dog’s body. 
The next thing was cool salve on the painful 
sores. 

Then Jan was ready to follow this kind friend, 
and though his legs trembled with weakness, he 
hastened with the old man into a large room with 
dirt floor. It was late in the afternoon and the 
light from two small windows left the place in 
partial darkness, so that Jan, coming into it, 
could not see anything at first. But, he heard 
dogs whining and barking all about him. When 
he grew accustomed to the dim light, the old 
man had tied him and gone away. 

A number of dogs were fastened by short 
ropes, and all were staring at the big dog. Shrill 
yapping made Jan turn quickly to see a tiny, 
dirty dog with long hair that had once been 
white but now was matted and grimed, straining 
on its rope and squinting impudently at him, 


62 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

“Gracious! You’re the biggest dog I ever 
saw!” exclaimed the midget, which was not much 
larger than a small kitten. “What is your name, 
and where on earth did you come from?” 

Prince Jan answered politely, then asked, “Is 
this the kennel where they train dogs to help 
people in the Land of No Snow?” 

“You must be crazy! This is the pound!” 
snapped the tiny creature, thinking Jan was 
making fun of it. 

“The pound?” echoed Prince Jan. “What is 
that?” 

“Silly! You haven’t much sense, even if you 
are so big! If the dog-catchers get us they 
bring us to the pound, and if our folks don’t 
come for us pretty soon, we are all shot!” 

Several dogs howled in despair, but the snippy 
little animal only stretched out for a nap. 

“Don’t you feel badly, too?” questioned Jan. 

“Good gracious, no! I travel around with my 
folks and we live in hotels, and they make me 
wear a collar. I manage to get away without 
my collar, sometimes, and some one always takes 
me to the pound, and my family come there for 
me as soon as I am lost. They’ll be here for me 
before long. I’ve been in lots of pounds.” 















































































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THE POUND 


65 


Without further remarks, the spoiled pet 
curled itself into a dirty ball and was fast asleep 
when the door opened and two young ladies 
rushed in and grabbed up the blinking rascal. 
He yawned in the face of the girl who held him; 
then, petted and scolded, he was carried away. 

With hopeless eyes, Jan watched them pass 
through the doorway. He understood now, that 
Elizabeth had not sent for him, that nobody 
cared what happened to him. He lay down and 
shut his eyes and tried to shut his ears to the 
misery of the other dogs, but he could not sleep. 
Jan kept thinking how he had wanted to do 
what was right and how hard he had tried to 
remember what his mother had taught him. In 
this strange land, with no snow and no work to 
do, he had failed; and now, he would die in dis¬ 
grace after a useless life that meant dishonour 
to his father and Barry, and the other dogs who 
had lived and died doing their duty as St. Ber¬ 
nards. 

Through the long hours of the night, though 
darkness shut away the sight of the other dogs, 
Jan could hear restless movements and choked 
whimpers, so that he could not forget where he 
was, and at last, when morning broke, he lifted 


66 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

his head slowly and looked at the dogs around 
him. Then he remembered that morning at the 
Hospice when he had wakened early, waiting 
impatiently for his first lesson on the trail. But 
these dogs around him, now, were pitiful things, 
cowering and shivering; the eyes that met his 
own were dull and hopeless, and the ears all 
drooped dejectedly. 

The dogs started nervously as a key scraped 
in the lock of the door. Then the old man came 
into the room and went from one dog to the 
other, patting each in turn as he placed clean, 
freshly cooked meat and a pan of water within 
easy reach. The poor animals shrank back, but 
as they saw that he did not threaten any of them, 
the ragged tails flopped and the eyes that fol¬ 
lowed him were less timid. When he reached 
Jan, the man stood looking at him and shaking 
his head slowly. The dog, still suspicious of 
every human being, bunched his muscles and 
waited, but the smile and gentle voice, “You poor 
old fellow! I’m afraid I can’t do anything for 
you,” made Jan look up with his great, wistful 
eyes pleading for sympathy and kindness. 

“I’ll do the best I can, though,” the old man 


THE POUND 


67 


said, at last, as he untied the rope and turned 
toward the door. 

The dog rose stiffly, for every bone in his gaunt 
body ached, his legs trembled from weakness due 
to lack of proper food, but he moved trustingly 
beside this kindly stranger. As they reached 
once more the door of the little house where Jan 
had been washed and fed the night before, the 
wrinkled hand holding the rope reached out and 
Prince Jan’s hot tongue touched it in a light 
caress. 

Inside the tiny house the man fixed an old 
comforter then pointing at it, he said, “Go lie 
down, Jan.” 

With a sigh that was half-weariness, half 
gratitude, the dog stretched his tired body on the 
soft quilt, but his eyes watched every movement 
of his new friend. Then Jan slept in peace, for 
the first time since Elizabeth had deserted him. 

The odor of warm, fresh meat from a dish 
near his nose wakened him. As he moved toward 
it a tiny yellow bird flew across the room and lit 
on the floor, watching him pertly and edging: 
cautiously to the plate. It paused with head 
perked impudently on one side and its bright 
little eyes fixed on the big dog. Jan kept very 


68 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

still, and the old man, sitting across the room, 
nodded approvingly when the dog allowed the 
bird to peck at the plate of food. After tasting 
Jan’s dinner, the bird, perched on the edge of 
the dish, lifted its head and sang as though its 
throat would burst with music. It finished the 
song, gave a funny little shake of its wings, then 
flew across the room and lit on the shoulder of 
the Poundmaster, where it stayed while he kept 
moving around the room. 

“Go home. Cheepsie,” said the old man, and 
the bird at once darted into a cage hanging at 
the front window, but the Poundmaster did not 
shut the cage door. 

Then he led Jan to the back porch where the 
tub of clean soapsuds was ready, and again the 
dog was washed thoroughly and the salve applied 
to his sores. Though Jan’s heart was almost 
bursting with gratitude, he could only show it 
by poking his nose against the kindly hand, or 
uttering low whimpers. 

“I know, old fellow,” his new friend said, 
“you’re trying to thank me. It’s all right now. 
Don’t worry!” 

And Prince Jan knew that it was all right. 


THE POUND 69 

That night he slept on the soft comforter in the 
little house. 

As day after day went past, Jan began to 
feel strong again, but it took eight long months 
before his beautiful hair grew out and his eyes 
at last lost their pitiful pleading. At first he 
could not understand about his new friend, whom 
he heard other men call “Captain Smith, the 
poundmaster.” He remembered what the little 
white dog had said about pounds being places 
where dogs were killed when they had no friends 
to claim them, but Jan knew that his friend 
would not hurt any dog. 

Each day, now, Jan followed the captain into 
the long room where dogs were tied with ropes, 
just as he, himself, had been kept that first night. 
During sunshiny days of the snowless winter, 
these dogs were led into the back yard of the 
bungalow. It had a high board fence, so they 
could run about and stretch, or lie in the warm 
grass. 

None of these dogs ever stayed very long, but 
they all soon learned to love the old captain and 
would rush around his feet or crawl against him, 
wagging their tails. A few, bolder than the 
others, leaped up to lick his hands, or pretended 


70 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


they were going to fight him, but when they got 
near, they turned and raced about him in big 
circles, barking and yelping as though they were 
laughing at the joke. 

All the time, the old man stood smiling, his 
hands held out to caress those nearest. New 
dogs came with the others, and often some of the 
older dogs would disappear. Then Prince Jan 
would look at the captain, wondering, but never 
doubting his friend who loved all dogs. 


Chapter VII 
Hippity-Hop 

T he loving care given Jan by the cap¬ 
tain for eight months made him well and 
happy, and above all brought back his 
lost faith in people, so that he became the gentle, 
affectionate dog that he used to be before he 
knew what cruelty meant. 

One of Jan’s ancestors had been a Newfound¬ 
land dog. These are very large dogs with long, 
silky black and white hair. Though not so large 
as the St. Bernards, they resemble them in build 
and show the same intelligence, loyalty, and kind 
disposition. Newfoundland dogs are wonderful 
swimmers and do not have to be trained to go 
out and rescue people who are drowning. So 
it was very natural for Prince Jan to enjoy 
swimming. 

The old poundmaster and Jan walked on the 
beach nearly every day, and if the dog saw a 
bit of driftwood near the shore, he would swim 
71 


72 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


out and get it. His master then put the wood 
in a basket so it could be taken home to burn in 
the fireplace on cool nights. Often when Jan 
was alone on the beach and spied floating wood, 
he dashed through the surf for it, and, if it were 
not too heavy, dragged it to the bungalow. 
Whenever he did this, he was petted and praised 
by the old man. Then Jan felt very proud be¬ 
cause he was helping his master. 

One day as he wandered alone on the shore he 
saw a lot of wood floating on the waves. Though 
it was quite a distance he did not hesitate to 
plunge after it. The salt water splashed over 
his head; sometimes he was completely under 
big waves, and once a high curhng breaker 
caught and turned him over and over, while his 
legs stuck up from the peak of the wave, but Jan 
thought it all great sport. He shook his big 
head so that his long ears flapped, and his strong 
paws sent him into deeper water where the waves 
rolled in long lines but did not curl up and break 
so roughly as nearer the shore. 

The boards were fastened together, and Jan 
saw this was a much harder task than he had ever 
attempted before. He grabbed the edge of a 
plank in his powerful jaws and twisting sharply. 


HIPPITY-HOP 


73 


struck back for land. Several times the force 
of the water and the weight of the little raft 
made him let go, but each time he caught the 
driftwood and fought his way toward the beach. 
Land was still quite distant when he heard a 
faint noise, and then he saw that a tiny grey kit¬ 
ten was clinging to the boards. 

“Hold on,” called Jan, but the kitten did not 
seem to hear him. It lay perfectly still. 

He tried to swim faster, fearing the waves 
might wash the little creature off, for at times 
the water covered the raft and Jan’s head, too. 
He gained the shore and dragged the wreckage 
far back to safety. Jan sniffed at the kitten. 
Its eyes were shut and it did not move. He 
knew that most cats are afraid of dogs, so he 
went off a little way and sat down, waiting pa¬ 
tiently for it to wake up. 

After many minutes Jan went over and pushed 
it gently with his nose. It did not stir. Then 
he sat down and looked at it thoughtfully, re¬ 
membering that when the dogs of the Hospice 
found a traveller in the snow whom they could not 
waken, they hurried for help. His mother and 
Bruno had told him that, and Jan had never 


74 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


forgotten those lessons, nor the days he and 
Rollo had been trained by Brother Antoine. 

His tongue licked the wet fur, but the kitten’s 
eyes stayed shut. Jan lifted his head, gave a 
loud bark and raced away through the sand, 
kicking it with his fast-flying feet so that it 
formed tiny, yellow clouds. 

Into the little sitting-room he rushed, leaving 
a damp trail across the floor. The captain 
looked up in surprise and stopped lighting his 
pipe when the dog, dripping wet, stood in front 
of him and barked loudly. 

“What’s the matter, Jan?” he questioned. “I 
never saw you so fussed up! And you’re drip¬ 
ping wet, too!” 

Jan danced around, barking, then dashed to 
the gate but there he stopped and looked back, 
wagging his tail. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” asked the 
old man, rising slowly. 

The dog leaped against the gate, shoving it 
open, then ran ahead, only to return and bark 
again. 

“All right,” the poundmaster picked up his 
cap, and when he followed, Jan’s delight could 
not have been misunderstood by any one. 


HIPPITY-HOP 


75 


“Woof! Woof!” he kept shouting back, and 
in dog-talk that meant, “Hurry! Hurry!” 

And Captain Smith did hurry as fast as he 
could, but Jan reached the driftwood long be¬ 
fore the old man. The kitten was in the same 
place, just as he had left it. 

“\Yhy, it’s a kitten!” cried Jan’s master, as he, 
too, reached the spot. “Poor little thing!” 

He stooped down and picked up the tiny, limp 
body. “I think it’s dead, Jan, but you did your 
best to save it. Didn’t you?” 

The dog watched intently, his tail waved 
slowly and his nose touched the hand that was 
gently rubbing the wet fur. Then, without any 
warning, the kitten’s eyes opened and blinked 
and it uttered a faint mew. 

“Well! I declare, it’s ahve after all!” the 
captain exclaimed. “It must have been washed 
ashore from some wrecked boat, judging from 
that driftwood raft. Looks most starved to 
death, Jan. If there’s any truth that cats have 
nine lives, this little thing must have used up a 
good many of its lives getting to land. Come 
along, Jan! We’ll try to save what’s left, any¬ 
way.” 

The dog scampered toward the bungalow. 


76 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


running back at times to leap about the old man. 
Jan was so happy that he had saved the poor lit¬ 
tle thing. It was only a little, grey kitten, and 
at the Hospice, of course, the dogs saved people; 
but that was in a place where there was snow. 

When they all reached the kitchen, Jan 
crowded against the captain, who rubbed the 
shivering little cat with an old towel. Then it 
was placed on the floor with a saucer of milk. 
As the milk disappeared, the dog in his delight, 
moved closer, but the frightened animal humped 
up its back, fuzzed its thin tail and spit at him. 

Of course, it did not know that Jan had saved 
its life, or that he did not want to hurt it, now. 
He moved away and sat down quietly to watch 
it. The saucer was filled with milk a second 
time, and the kitten’s tongue lapped as fast as 
it could go. Its sides bulged out from its 
scrawny body when it had emptied the saucer 
and moved across the room. 

“You poor little thing!” cried the old man, 
picking it up gently. “It’s only got three legs, 
Jan!” 

The poundmaster fixed his glasses and exam¬ 
ined a hind leg which had no foot. “I guess it 
was born that way,” he spoke. “Must have been 


HIPPITY-HOP 


77 


taken on some boat as a mascot. Well, it doesn’t 
matter what has happened to it, just so it’s com¬ 
fortable now, Jan!” 

The kitten went back to the empty saucer, and 
sniffed at it, then with a funny little hop and 
jump, it came back and rubbed, purring, against 
the old man’s leg, but it kept a sharp watch on 
the big dog. 

“We’ll call it Hippity-Hop,” decided Captain 
Smith, and as neither the kitten nor Jan sug¬ 
gested a better name, that settled it. 

Hippity-Hop was really quite a nice little kit¬ 
ten, even if she did not have as many legs as most 
cats have. Her fur was dark grey, a white 
breast and ring around her neck looked as though 
she had put on a clean shirt and collar, while 
every one of her three paws was snow-white, like 
nice white gloves. She spent a great deal of 
her time washing her fur with her tongue. 

For many days Hippity-Hop was afraid of 
Jan, who was big enough to swallow her at one 
gulp; but when she learned that he stood back 
and let her eat first from his dish, although she 
had just cleaned her own plate, she lost her fear 
and grew to love him. Each night after supper 


78 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


she crawled between his paws and went to sleep, 
while he lay very still, that he might not waken 
his little friend. 

Jan was very sure that Hippity-Hop was the 
nicest little kitten in the world, after she had 
learned one thing: 

When first she went to live with the captain 
and Jan and had seen Cheep sie walking around 
on the floor, Hippity-Hop’s green eyes glistened. 
Then her claws reached out from the fur that hid 
them and her tail twitched and jerked as she 
crouched to spring on the little yellow bird that 
was paying no attention to the kitten. But, just 
as she was ready to jump, there was a terrible 
roar behind her and she was grabbed by Jan’s 
big jaws. 

Hippity-Hop gave a yowl of fear, and twisted 
to scratch Jan’s eyes, but he gripped her firmly, 
though his teeth did not hurt her. Captain 
Smith, hearing the commotion ran into the room 
and understood at once what had happened. He 
took the kitten from Jan, and though Hippity- 
Hop spit and scratched and yowled, the old man 
dipped her several times in a tub of water. Cats 
hate water, and Hippity-Hop hated water more 


HIPPITY-HOP 


79 


than most cats, for it made her think of the time 
she had been almost drowned in the ocean. 

“You’ve got to learn to be kind to Cheepsie, 
or else you can’t live here with us,” the old man 
said as he set the kitten on the porch floor. 

The kitten began to lick her wet fur, but she 
was badly frightened and very sure that if Jan 
did not eat her up, the captain would put her 
back in the ocean again. So she resolved never 
to bother Cheepsie after that one time. 

The bird seemed to understand, too, for it was 
not long after this that Hippity-Hop, Jan and 
Cheepsie ate out of the same dish. At times the 
bird would perch on the dog’s head and sing to 
them all. Jan always sat as still as he could, 
until the song ended and Cheepsie had flown 
over to the captain’s shoulder. Often the old 
man took his violin from the corner, and as he 
played he whistled or sang in a quavering voice, 
Jan’s tail beat time on the floor, Hippity-Hop 
joined with a song of her own, though it was 
only a loud purr, while Cheepsie, perched on 
their loved master’s shoulder, sang and trilled 
as loudly as he could, trying to make more music 
than the bird that lived in the violin. 


80 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


“It’s a fine old world, Jan!” the poundmaster 
would say, as he put the violin away in its box. 

Then Hippity-Hop and Jan knew it was time 
for bed, and Cheepsie hurried to his cage and 
tucked his little head under his yellow wing. 


Chapter VIII 
The Muzzle 

J AN’S curiosity about the dogs that disap¬ 
peared was satisfied when a lady in a hand¬ 
some gown was driven to the bungalow one 
evening. 

Captain Smith met her with a happy smile, 
then he brought in an Airedale dog that had been 
with the other dogs for many weeks. The ladj^ 
patted the dog, spoke to it gently, then she rose 
from her chair and the captain followed her to 
the gate where an automobile was waiting. The 
Airedale was lifted into the seat beside her. 

“He will have the kindest care,” she leaned 
forward to say, “and I hope you will be able to 
find homes for all the other dogs, too. I will 
tell my friends about them. Captain Smith, 
does the city pay for their feed while you find 
homes for them all?” 

Jan saw his master slowly shake his head, “It 
does not take much to feed them,” he answered. 
81 


82 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

“I am allowed to feed them a week, but I man¬ 
age the rest of it from my salary. It makes me 
happy to see their gratitude, for most of them 
have been cuffed about so they don’t know that 
there are people who will be kind and love them.” 

After the visitor left, Jan lay quietly watching 
the old man moving about the room. Now, he 
understood everything, and the dog rose quickly 
and thrust his nose into the wrinkled hand. The 
smile on the old man’s face went deep into Jan’s 
heart as the poundmaster, lifting the dog’s head, 
looked into Jan’s eyes, saying, “It’s a pretty 
hard thing when any human being is without a 
friend, Jan; but people can speak up for them¬ 
selves. A dog can’t do that, and yet, he is the 
best friend any man can have.” 

So Jan always felt happy after that day, for 
when he missed one of the dogs now, he knew 
it had found a home and some one to love it. 
And on those days the poundmaster went around 
with shining eyes while his lips puckered up in 
a cheerful whistle, or Jan heard him singing: 

“Old dog Tray is ever faithful, 

Grief cannot drive him away; 

He’s gentle and he’s kind 
And you’ll never, never find 

A better friend than old dog Tray.” 


THE MUZZLE 


83 


Many times when friends called to talk and 
smoke with the Captain, Jan would go 
for a short walk along the beach. One evening 
the ocean looked so inviting that the dog could 
not resist swimming far out, barking and snap¬ 
ping at floating kelp. It was much later than 
usual when he reached the shore and shook his 
long fur until it showered the salt water like a 
rain storm, then with a loud “Woof!” of happi¬ 
ness, he ran toward his home. 

The high cliffs that rose above the beach threw 
dark shadows on the sand. The little bungalow 
where the captain lived was at the top of this 
cliff overlooking the ocean. The pound was 
not far away, and there were several other 
! ungalows a little distance apart from each 
other, and a flight of wooden steps edged a twist¬ 
ing footpath which led directly up to the front 
gate of Jan’s home. 

It was easier to scamper up the pathway than 
climb the wooden steps, and the dog hurried to 
reach the top; but a slight noise made him pause 
and look at the thick brush near him. There 
was nothing to be seen, but Jan’s ears listened 
sharply while his sensitive nose sniffed the air 
suspiciously. One sniff was enough to make 


84 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

the hair bristle along his back. William, his old 
enemy, was near. 

Jan whirled quickly, his eyes shining with fury 
and hate, and his hair formed a stiff ridge along 
his back while his teeth gleamed in a snarl. 
Something slipped over his head and despite his 
struggles, it twisted tightly around his neck. A 
strange odor made him sick and weak when he 
tried to breathe. His paws clawed in his attempts 
to tear the sack from his head, so that he 
could breathe and fight, but his legs grew limp, a 
noise sounded inside his ears, something seemed 
to be hammering at the top of his head. He 
made one more effort, staggered a few steps, then 
crum,pled down on the sand. But he knew it 
was William’s boot that kicked him, and Wil¬ 
liam’s voice that said, ‘‘Guess that will settle 
you.” Jan tried to growl but he was too sick to 
make a sound. 

The next thing he knew was when he woke in 
a strange dark place. His whole body was stiff 
and sore, he felt sick all over and something hurt 
his nose terribly. His paws clawed at the thing 
that hurt. It was made of wire that cut deeply 
in his flesh. He knew it was a muzzle, for he 


THE MUZZLE 85 

had seen other dogs suffer from them. The 
more he clawed, the worse it hurt. 

Then he rubbed his head sideways on the 
floor, but this made matters worse, so he gave 
up fighting and lay with his nose against the 
floor until he could stand the pain no longer. 
When he staggered to his feet, he found a rope 
held him, but when he tried to chew the rope the 
muzzle kept his jaws closed so that he was barely 
able to thrust the tip of his swollen tongue be¬ 
tween his front teeth. 

Jan suffered torture, not only because the wire 
cut his flesh, but also because any dog, when 
frightened, sick, or too hot, becomes feverish and 
his tongue hangs from his mouth. That is the 
way a dog sweats, and Prince Jan’s mouth was 
clamped together by the muzzle. He could not 
hear any noise in the room, so he lay down and 
kept very quiet. There was really nothing else 
he could do, except howl. He knew that Wil¬ 
liam had something to do with all this trouble, 
and he hated William more than ever. 

A door opened. Jan sprang to his feet, hop¬ 
ing he might be able to break the rope and es¬ 
cape before the door was closed. He crouched 
and leaped with all his strength, but the rope 


86 PMlSrCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


was too strong and he fell with a thud to the floor, 
where he panted heavily. A flash of light al¬ 
most blinded him, but he saw William and snarled 
defiance. Another man was in the room. Jan 
caught a glimpse of him, gave a sniff, and knew 
that this other man was the one who had been 
with William in the Pixley stable. He felt 
that he had two enemies now to fight. 

As William came toward the dog, Jan 
strained on the rope. 

“You’ll get that temper taken out of you be¬ 
fore long,” threatened the man, at the same 
time keeping carefully beyond the length of the 
rope. But William’s hatred outbalanced his 
caution, and he lifted his foot to give the dog a 
kick. Jan shrank back, not from fear as Wil¬ 
liam supposed, but to get a better chance to 
spring and grab the man’s leg. 

“Let him alone,” called the other man. “The 
worse you treat that dog the harder it will be 
to handle him.” 

William scowled. “The best thing is to kill 
him now. We’re taking a big risk on the chance 
of selling him.” 

“Oh, go ahead and kill him if you want to,” 
the other man shrugged his shoulders. “Let 


THE MUZZLE 87 

your spite keep you from making a thousand dol¬ 
lars.” 

He held out a bottle, “Here’s the chloroform. 
Go on, finish the job if you’re going to.” 

“I don’t believe you can sell him,” sneered 
William. “You just said that because you knew 
I was going to kill him before I left here.” 

“If you didn’t hate dogs the way you do,” 
replied Shorty, “you’d know that he’ll sell for a 
thousand dollars as soon as he is over the Cana¬ 
dian line. The man I told you about will buy 
that dog without a question.” 

“Some one will recognize the dog before we 
get there, if the old man stirs things up.” 

“Not when I get him fixed,” bragged Shorty. 

“There’s no time to fool with him,” persisted 
William, “We’ve got to get away quick.” 

“Let me alone,” snapped Shorty. “This is 
my end of the job. If you stop picking on the 
dog. I’ll have no trouble with him. I never 
knew a dog from the time we were kids that 
didn’t hate you on sight.” 

“Yes, and you’re a regular fool over them,” 
William retorted. “You take care of him and 
get the money for him, and I’ll look out for the 
machine and sell that. But you’ve got to keep 


88 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


that dog muzzled or there’ll be trouble coming 
your way fast and plenty. See?” 

Shorty did not answer and William went out. 
Jan and Shorty faced each other. The dog’s 
muscles were taut, his eyes alert. The man 
looked at him steadily. 

“You’re the dandiest, spunkiest dog I ever 
saw,” he said at last, as though sure that Jan 
understood the words. “I like you, old fellow, 
and I’d turn you loose, if I dared.” 

He placed a pan of water in front of the dog 
and the angry gleam softened in Jan’s eyes. He 
thrust his nose into the pan but the muzzle was 
too tight to permit him to drink. The dog 
looked up at Shorty, who reached out his hand. 
Jan’s tail waved, then he felt fingers run lightly 
along his shoulders, fumble at the buckle of the 
muzzle and the cruel thing fell to the floor. Be¬ 
fore the dog lapped the water that he craved, he 
stared into Shorty’s face and saw a kindly smile 
that told him this man was a friend. Jan’s hot 
tongue touched Shorty’s hand before turning to 
lap the cool liquid. 

“You’ll be all right now,” Shorty said as he 
rubbed the places where the strap had cut deeply. 


THE MUZZLE 


89 


Then when Jan had finished drinking, the man 
fed him bits of meat. 

After the meal was over, Shorty took a pair 
of clippers and cropped Jan’s long hair close to 
the skin. It did not hurt, so the dog submitted 
quietly. A sponge and bucket of dark liquid 
were brought by the man and Jan was thoroughly 
saturated, until the dye dripped to the floor. 

“Got to put on that muzzle, boy, before he gets 
back,” but this time the strips did not hurt so 
badly. 

William chuckled when he saw the dog. “Great 
stunt. Shorty! The poundmaster wouldn’t know 
his own dog if he caught him now!” 

He picked up a couple of bundles and a suit¬ 
case, while Shorty led Jan by the rope. They 
were in a deep canon, where no sound of the 
ocean could be heard. Jan did not know the 
place. He had never been away from the noise 
of the surf since living in California. A big, 
black automobile stood under a tree. William 
tossed the things into it and climbed to the front 
seat with a laugh. 

“The police will have as much trouble finding 
a grey machine as the poundman will have find¬ 
ing a long-haired St. Bernard dog. We’ll hit 


90 PRIISrCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


the road lively at night and camp in the day. 
There’s just one thing you’ve got to remember. 
If I see you getting stuck on that dog I’m going 
to kill him. I’m taking him along because you 
said you could sell him, and I’m not going to 
stand any nonsense about it.” 

Shorty’s only answer was to open the back 
door of the machine and motion the dog to jump. 
He obeyed and curled on the floor. Shorty sat 
in the back seat while William drove. 

Jan did not sleep during the long, dark hours 
they sped over the road. He kept wondering 
what the captain would think, and hoping he 
could get back home some way. Once in a while 
he lifted his head as a flash of light showed an¬ 
other automobile passing. At daybreak William 
turned into thick brush and drove over rough 
ground until they stopped beside a shallow 
stream. 

Still muzzled, Jan leaped from the car and 
followed Shorty, but he watched William closely. 
The dog was tied after he had been allowed to 
drink at the creek. William loafed while Shorty 
made coffee and cooked a meal, which the older 
man ate, grumbling all the time. Then he threw 


THE MUZZLE 91 

himself on the ground and dragged his hat over 
his face. 

Shorty fed Jan, and after clearing away the 
breakfast things, moved closer to the dog. Jan’s 
tail rustled the dry leaves and twigs, as Shorty, 
with a boyish smile, stretched on the ground be¬ 
side him. A hand touched one of Jan’s ears 
and pulled it gently, but the hand was friendly 
and the dog’s eyes showed he understood. Then, 
tired from the long ride. Shorty and Jan slept 
soundly. 

At dusk another meal was prepared and eaten, 
and they started again on their journey. For 
two more days and nights they travelled in the 
dark and camped in hidden places during the 
day, so that no one could see them. The muzzle 
was never taken again from Jan’s nose, for Wil¬ 
liam watched constantly and repeated his warn¬ 
ings several times. He did not know, however, 
that Shorty eased the strap so that the wire and 
leather could not cut, and in this way he made 
Jan as comfortable as was possible. 

The night of the third day there was a full 
moon, and dim shadows were cast by scattered 
trees near the road. It was very warm and 
Jan’s muzzle worried him; then, too, he was stiff 


92 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


from lack of the exercise to which he had been ac¬ 
customed. Shorty noticed the dog’s restlessness 
and leaned down. His fingers slipped under the 
strap and wires, then touched the buckle at the 
side of the head. Jan squirmed nearer and 
wagged his tail. Each night when they were 
well on the way. Shorty did this much to help 
the dog, but he had to tighten the muzzle before 
William turned the machine from the road to 
camp for the day. 

As Shorty leaned over, the car reached a clear 
place in the road, where the moon shone brightly. 
Shorty did not see William turn, but a brutal fist 
struck full force against Shorty’s face and he 
tumbled from the seat into the bottom of the au¬ 
tomobile against Jan. 

The dog growled, but the growl was meant for 
William, not Shorty. Then Jan knew that 
Shorty was up on his feet and both men were 
swearing and fighting, while the automobile 
twisted from side to side of the road, and was 
going faster and faster. There was a crash. 
Jan whirled over and over through the air and 
as he struck the ground he heard a man’s scream 
of pain. He did not know whether it was Shorty 
or William who cried out, but he did know that 


THE MUZZLE 


93 


he was free, and he dashed into the darkness of 
the thick trees, not knowing where he was go¬ 
ing, not caring where he went, only the one thing 
was in his mind—he was leaving William behind 
and he must run as fast as he could. 


Chapter IX 

Jan’s Journey to the Land of Make-Believe 


A fter the first wild dash for freedom, 
Jan settled to a steady jog for the rest 
of the night. When dawn came, some 
instinct made him turn into the brush where it 
grew most thickly. His one fear now was that 
William might find him. His one wish was to 
get back home. He did not know what kept 
him moving toward the south. He had nothing 
to guide him save the strange feeling that made 
him sure if he just kept on, some day he would 
reach the gate of the bungalow and see Hippity- 
Hop and the captain watching down the street 
for him. 

Jan was able to lap water when he found it, 
but he could not fight, nor eat, even if he had 
found food, for the muzzle clamped his jaws to¬ 
gether. He knew better now than to tug at it 
with his claws or rub it against the ground. The 
second night he was very hungry, but he started 
94 


JAN’S JOURNEY 


95 


hopefully on his way, plodding steadily in the 
same direction. At dawn he was faint and weak 
from hunger and exhaustion, and when it grew 
dark again he did not want to move. Then he 
thought of the captain. Wearily Jan rose to 
his feet and with low-hanging head he dragged 
slowly along. 

The fourth day after the escape, he was too 
weak to struggle further, and lay limp on the 
ground, with his eyes closed. He wanted to 
keep perfectly still, though he was suffering 
keenly from thirst, for he had not found any 
water that day. A rabbit darted from the thick 
brush close to Jan’s head. The rustling of 
leaves made the dog’s eyes open. He saw the 
little creature sit up in sudden fright, but Jan 
did not try to catch it, he was too tired and 
besides he knew that the muzzle held him a pris¬ 
oner. So he watched the rabbit hop about him 
fearlessly, until the sound of steps in dry leaves 
startled it into the bushes. 

Jan heard the steps, too. He thought Wil¬ 
liam had found him, and knowing that he could 
not fight nor defend himself, he dragged himself 
wearily to his feet and staggered with trembling 


96 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


legs a few, short steps. Then he dropped 
heavily. 

Voices sounded. Jan’s ears lifted and quiv¬ 
ered, his eyes brightened and his tail moved 
slightly. He was not afraid of children. They 
had always loved and petted him. Once more 
he rose and slowly pushed through the thicket 
to an open place where two little girls laughed 
and chattered as they picked wild blackberries 
into a small tin pail. 

He edged toward the sunbonnets bobbing over 
the pail. The children heard the rustle and 
turned about, then the pail dropped, the berries 
spilled on the ground and the sunbonnet chil¬ 
dren ran, screaming wildly, “Father! Father! 
It’s a big, black bear to eat all of us up!” 

The dog halted, wondering why they ran from 
him. He heard a man’s quick words, the chil¬ 
dren’s excited voices and a woman’s soothing 
tones. 

“It’s all right now!” thought poor Prince Jan. 
“Women and children won’t hurt me.” 

He moved through the brush, but found 
himself looking straight into the barrel of a gun 
held by steady hands. Jan knew what that 
meant. His legs trembled as he pressed for- 


JAN’S JOURNEY 


97 


ward. Oh, if he could only make this man un¬ 
derstand that he did not mean to hurt or frighten 
the little girls! He only wanted some one to 
take off this horrible muzzle. 

The dog’s pleading eyes were lifted to the 
man’s face and then, unable to stand any longer, 
Jan fell weakly to the ground and pulled him¬ 
self forward, inch by inch, to show that he meant 
no harm, and all the while his ragged tail kept 
beating very feebly. The man looked at him, 
then lowered the gun. 

“Come here, girls! Your bear is only a lost 
dog!” 

Jan did not look around at the patter of feet, 
but his paws went to the muzzle, and as he lay 
with his head against the man’s feet, the pitifully 
pleading eyes and tugging paws of the dog spoke 
as plainly as words. 

“Poor fellow!” said a gentle voice, then a wom¬ 
an’s fingers worked carefully at the strap and 
Jan felt the muzzle fall away. 

He touched her hand with his dry, stiff tongue, 
and saw the two little sunbonnet children, laugh¬ 
ing, yet still afraid of the big dog, come to their 
mother’s side. The man noticed the broken rope 
and examined the collar. 


98 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


“No name or license,” he spoke at last, “but 
somebody will be looking for him. I wonder 
how long he has been wandering around with this 
muzzle on him, poor chap!” 

“Bring water, children,” said the mother, “and 
the things that were left over from lunch. He 
must be hungry.” 

The tin pail was rescued from the ground and 
filled twice with water before Jan’s thirst was 
slaked and he looked up with grateful eyes and 
dripping jaws. While he was drinking his fill, 
a basket had been opened by the children and 
slices of cold meat and bits of buttered bread 
were placed before him. He swallowed the food 
greedily, but paused between gulps to wag his 
tail and let them know how he thanked them. 

For some time after this he lay quietly resting 
while the sunbonnet children sat close beside him 
and wondered where he came from and what 
his name was. Ruth, the younger, put out her 
hand to touch him timidly. 

“I’m not afraid of him. He won’t bite. He 
isn’t a bear to eat us all up, is he, Charlotte?” 

“I- I- aren’t afraid, either,” Char¬ 

lotte’s voice was uncertain, but her hand touched 
the dog’s big head. Then both children lost all 




JAN’S JOURNEY 


99 


fear of him and Jan forgot about William and 
the hours of suffering, for the two little girls 
curled close to him, and soon they were all three 
fast asleep. 

The sun was almost setting when the father 
and mother tucked the basket and shawls into 
the automobile. Jan watched with puzzled eyes 
as they carefully put away some little boards. 
He had noticed when he woke from his doze that 
both the man and the woman were sitting on 
stools with these boards propped before them, 
and they were making marks on them. The 
father was already in the machine and the little 
girls climbed in, then the mother put her foot on 
the step and Jan let out a wild howl that made 
them all start. He thought they were going to 
leave him behind and he knew that he could never 
run fast enough to follow them. 

“Good gracious! What a howl!” exclaimed 
the man, laughing. “We won’t leave you. 
Jump up, old chap!” 

Jan lost no time scrambling into the automo¬ 
bile, then it ran swiftly along a smooth road 
which finally twisted through a beautiful canon. 
Great trees were on all sides and a tiny stream 
bubbled and danced far below. Birds sang and 



100 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


rabbits dashed out of the brush with swift hops 
and jerks, but Jan did not want to eat the rabbits 
now. The children kept laughing and clapping 
their hands, calling to Jan, “Look, look, quick!” 
Sometimes their hands pressed his head to make 
him turn where they pointed. 

Jan was very happy on that ride, but he still 
hoped that by and by he might get back home 
to Hippity-Hop and the captain. 


Chapter X 


The Home of the Sunbonnet Babies 



HE home of Jan’s new friends was 


perched high on the top of a mountain 


peak, far above the canon through which 
they had driven. Jan heard them call this place 
Topango Pass. The house stood alone with 
overhanging oak trees and a garden full of flow¬ 
ers that made him think of the yard in front of 
the captain’s bungalow. 

A big stone fireplace was near the house, and 
pink geraniums grew closely around the little 
home, while over the porch climbed yellow roses 
that looked as if the fairies had hidden their gold 
among the green leaves. 

“This is Roseneath,” announced Charlotte 
to Jan as the automobile stopped in front of the 
porch and the two girls jumped out, followed 
by the dog. 

“Charlotte!” Ruth said suddenly, stopping 
halfway up the path, “we’ve got to find a name 
for that dog right away!” 


101 


102 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


It was a very serious matter, so the children 
sat on the lowest step of the porch and Jan 
squatted before them. He wished he could help 
by telling his name and about the Hospice, but 
all he could do was to sit still and look from one 
eager little face to the other. After trying sev¬ 
eral names they decided on “Bruin.’’ 

“Because he is so big and black, just like a 
bear!” 

Jan rather liked the name. It sounded like 
Bruno, but of course, the sunbonnet children did 
not know anything about Bruno and the Hos¬ 
pice, so they said Jan was very smart to remem¬ 
ber the new name without any trouble at all. 

The next morning he was wakened early by 
the children’s voices and hurried to meet them in 
front of the house. Charlotte had a tin bucket 
in her hand and Jan wondered if they were go¬ 
ing to pick more berries. But they went down 
a path that led to the stable and then he stood 
still in surprise. 

Right in front of them was a strange creature 
about the size of a common dog. It had long, 
white hair, a white beard like a very old man’s, 
two horns curved back over its head and its feet 
had sharp-pointed hoofs. It was tied by a rope 


HOME OF SUNBONNET BABIES 103 


and back of it was a smaller animal of the same 
kind. 

Charlotte went past the larger one and sat 
dowfi on a httle wooden stool beside the smaller 
animal and soon the tin pail was full of milk. 
Back to the house trotted the children, and Jan, 
very much puzzled, kept beside them. In the 
kitchen they found the mother cooking break¬ 
fast. Jan lifted his nose and sniffed at the odor 
of broiling steak and hot biscuit. 

“Milk for the berries we picked yesterday,” 
the mother of the sunbonnet children said smil¬ 
ing. “Won’t we have a fine breakfast this morn¬ 
ing! And there’s a nice bone in the steak for 
Bruin, too!” 

She poured a little milk into a pan and placed 
it on the floor for J an. He knew that the white 
animal must have been a cow, yet it was not like 
the cow at the Pixleys’ home, but when he tasted 
the milk, it was just as nice as the big, yellow 
cow’s milk. 

While breakfast was being eaten, the children 
and their parents chatted together and Jan 
looked about the place. The walls of the rooms 
were hung with beautiful pictures, among them 
many fat little babies with sunbonnets hiding 


104 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


their faces. He was sure that if the sunbonnets 
were pushed back he would see the faces of Ruth 
and Charlotte laughing at him. 

As time went by Jan was quite happy and 
learned to love his gentle playmates very dearly. 
He grew accustomed to seeing the artists sitting 
before boards, painting pictures like those on the 
walls. Even the little girls, Ruth and Char¬ 
lotte, sometimes sat on the ground and made 
him lie still while they worked away with pencils 
and pieces of paper and told him they were mak¬ 
ing his picture to put in a book. It did not quite 
explain matters to Jan when Ruth held up one 
of these papers in front of his nose and said, “You 

see. Bruin, we’re going to be ill-us-^trators 

like mother when we grow up, and then we’ll 
put you in a book, maybe!” 

After Jan had several good baths the ugly 
black dye began to wear off and his white shirt- 
front and paws and the white streak on his nose 
showed plainly. Then the rusty black fur on 
his entire body became its natural tawny red 
and grew rapidly. The Melvilles now realized 
that Jan had been stolen and often wondered 
who had lost him. They asked the few people 
they saw but none of them had heard of such a 




HOME OF SUNBONNET BABIES 105 

dog, so the family felt that Jan belonged to 
them. 

Ruth and Charlotte were much interested 
when their parents told them that Bruin was a 
St. Bernard dog, and all about the noble animals 
that lived at the Hospice, for the two artists had 
visited the place many years before Ruth or 
Charlotte had been born. When their mother 
finished telling them these things, Ruth ex¬ 
claimed, “Mother! Then you and daddy and 
Charlotte and me are all St. Bernard dogs, be¬ 
cause we found Bruin when he was lost, didn’t 
we?” 

Jan was not the only pet of this family. The 
“Melville Menagerie” was what their mother 
called the collection of animals. There were 
two grown-up goats, named Captain Kidd and 
Mrs. Cream; two baby-goats. Peaches and 
Strawberry; a mother cat named Chicago, be¬ 
cause she was smoke color, and her three kittens, 
Texas, California, and Pennsylvania. Next 
was the canary bird, Pitty-Sing, and last, but not 
least, five horn-toads which were nameless, but 
who lived peacefully together in a box with sand 
to burrow in. 

All of these members of the family interested 


106 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

Jan, but he wanted to be friends with the old cat 
and her kittens, because he missed Kippity-Hop. 
Whenever he tried to go near them, the four 
jumped to their feet, arched their backs, and spat 
at him so rudely that he gave up making friends, 
and decided that only three-legged cats liked 
dogs. 

Each day about three o’clock all work was put 
aside by the artists, for this was the time they 
went to visit ‘‘The Land of Make-Believe.” 
Sometimes they were gypsies, and supper was 
cooked over a campfire among the oak trees. 
Again, they pretended Jan was a big bear and 
he found it great fun to chase after the children 
while they ran away as though really afraid of 
him. Then it was “Little Red Riding Hood” 
with Jan for the wolf, but he did not eat any one, 
like the wolf did, for he knew he would have 
a nice piece of meat cooked over the wood fire as 
they all sat about on the ground and pretended 
they had no place to sleep excepting underneath 
the trees. When the stars began to twinkle, the 
sunbonnet children said that the angels were 
lighting the candles in Heaven, and very soon 
it was time to go home for the night. 

Haying time in California is different from 


HOME OF SUNBONNET BABIES 107 


that of other parts of the world, for it is in May, 
and many months ahead of other places. The 
fields were dotted with little mounds of yellow 
hay drying in the sun, and one evening Mrs. 
Melville told the children she had a new game 
for the Land of Make-Believe. The next after¬ 
noon they could hardly wait until they reached 
the hay-fields. 

“Now, children,” said their mother, “these are 
the snow-covered peaks of the Alps that I told 
you about. Buth must be a lost traveller and 
wander around among these mountains of snow 
until she is too tired to go any further. Then 
she must lie down and pull the hay over her and 
wait to be rescued from death in the snow.” 

As Buth scampered away, Jan followed her, 
but Mrs. Melville called him back. He sat look¬ 
ing at her, but his head turned frequently toward 
the place he had last seen little Buth. Several 
times he started to get up, but each time he sat 
down again and waited. 

“You, Charlotte, are a monk from the Hospice 
and Bruin will go with you to search for lost 
travellers in this terrible snow-storm.” 

Jan stood very still, but his tail flapped around 
in circles while Mrs. Melville fastened a canteen 


108 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


of water to his collar, then she said, “Now, Bruin, 
go find Ruth!” 

“Woof! Woof!” rang out the big voice, just 
as the dogs of the Hospice called when they 
started on the trail. Followed closely by Char¬ 
lotte, Jan led the way from one hay mound to 
another, poking his nose deeply into each. Char¬ 
lotte kept calling, “Find Ruth, Bruin! Go find 
her! She’s lost in the snow apd will freeze to 
death if we don’t find her soon!” 

Jan forgot it was only the Land of Make- 
Believe, while he burrowed into the haycocks. 
As he ran from one to the other, his bark sounded 
again and again, for he remembered the lessons 
Brother Antoine had given him and Rollo, and 
the canteen that bumped against his breast felt 
like the little wooden casket he had carried on 
the trail. At last he found the lost traveller. 
Jan lifted his head and uttered a sharp bark of 
triumph before his nose began tossing the hay 
that completely covered Ruth. 

“He found her! He found her!” shrieked 
Charlotte in greatest excitement, just as though 
Ruth had really been lost in the snow-drifts. 

Both parents ran to watch the game and 
Ruth’s face appeared in the hay, like a pink 


HOME OF SUNBONNET BABIES 109 


Easter egg in a nest. She squinted up, saw her 
mother and father, Charlotte and Jan, then re¬ 
membered that she was lost and shut her eyes 
quickly. Jan touched her cheek with his nose, 
and licked her face. She could not keep still 
any longer, because she wanted to sneeze and that 
would spoil the whole game. So she opened her 
eyes, put up her hand and unfastened the canteen 
from Jan’s collar and swallowed such a big gulp 
of water that she almost choked. Her arms went 
about Jan’s neck and while she clung, he moved 
slowly away from the mound, his tail waving 
rapidly and his big eyes full of pride. Buth 
had been saved from a terrible death in the snow¬ 
drifts of the Alps! 

The whole party of rescuers hastened to the 
Hospice under the trees, where supper was al¬ 
most ready, and as they sat around the outdoor 
fireplace waiting the meal, they all declared that 
Bruin had acted just as if he had really lived at 
the Hospice and knew all about the dogs there 
and how they worked. 

Three months after Jan went to live at Rose- 
neath, the family sat reading one evening, and 
Jan sprawled at their feet. Ruth and Charlotte 
were deeply interested in the pictures of a new 


110 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


magazine for children, and Mr. Melville held a 
newspaper. He had been to the nearest town 
that day and had brought the mail home with 
him. 

Suddenly he let the paper drop to his lap and 
sat looking at Prince Jan, then he picked up the 
paper again, saying, “Listen to this!” 

All of them turned expectantly, for the 
parents always read aloud anything that might 
interest the children. 

CAPTURED THIEF WORRIES OVER LOST DOG 

John Leavitt, alias Shorty, now held as one of the two 
men who stole and wreeked an automobile belonging to 
Paul R. Wallace of Los Angeles, has made a confession 
implicating his half-brother, William Leavitt, formerly 
stableman at the beach-home of the Pixleys. 

According to Shorty’s statement, they had stolen a St. 
Bernard dog from Captain Smith, the Poundmaster, in¬ 
tending to sell the animal in Canada. Shorty became at¬ 
tached to the dog. Prince Jan, and in a quarrel with his 
brother over the muzzling of the dog, the machine was 
wrecked. 

Leavitt evidently supposed Shorty was dead beneath 
the wreckage, and escaped. Shorty was found later, seri¬ 
ously injured, and his recovery was not expected. His 
one anxiety seems to be that Prince Jan, being muzzled, 
might have died of starvation. Any one knowing the fate of 
the dog is asked to communicate with Captain Smith, 
through this paper. 

Prince Jan is a pure St. Bernard, with long fur, but 
he had been clipped and his hair dyed black. 

No trace of William Leavitt has been found, but the 


HOME OF SUNBONNET BABIES 111 

authorities are looking for him. He has a criminal record 
in the East and is now wanted there. Shorty has been 
bound over for trial. 

The family looked at the dog sleeping peace¬ 
fully at their feet. 

“Not the least doubt,” said Mr. Melville. 

“Call him, Kuth. Call his name—Prince Jan 
—and see how he acts.” 

The child’s lips quivered and her eyes filled 
with tears as she went to her mother’s side. 
“But, mother, if he is Prince Jan, will somebody 
take him away from us?” 

Charlotte’s eyes, too, were blurred and her 
lower lip dropped. 

“Suppose,” the mother spoke gently, and her 
arm went about the slender little figure leaning 
against her in half-choked grief, “Suppose, dear, 
some one found you when you were lost, and 
daddy and I didn’t know where you were, and 
the people couldn’t understand when you tried 
to tell them who you were and where we lived,” 
the voice grew very tender and grave, “and then 
the people found out where you belonged and 
that we were looking everywhere for you, and 
grieving because we did not know whether you 
were hungry and unhappy. Do you think it 


112 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


would be right for them to keep you away from 
us, even if they did love you very, very dearly?” 

Ruth’s head hung low and nobody spoke until 
she lifted her face with a tear-wet smile, ‘‘Jan! 
Prince Jan!” she called in her high, sweet voice. 

They saw the muscles of the sleeping dog 
twitch. The big paws moved slightly, as though 
in his dreams he was running to answer that 
name. His tail threshed lightly on the floor, but 
still he slept. 

“Jan, Prince Jan!” both children now called. 

He leaped to his feet. Quivering with excite¬ 
ment he faced them. 

“Jan!” repeated Mr. Melville. 

The dog darted to the man’s side and stood 
with eager, expectant eyes and furiously switch¬ 
ing tail. When he heard the name from MrSo 
Melville, Jan ran to her and laid his head on her 
knee, looking into her face questioning her 
dumbly. 

“He knows his name! He is Prince Jan!” 
the children cried as they swooped down on him 
with squeezes and hugs, while the dog whined 
and twisted and uttered sharp barks of excite¬ 
ment until they were all laughing at him. 

“Do you want to go home to the captain, 


HOME OF SUNBONNET BABIES 113 


Jan?” Mrs. Melville leaned over him as she 
spoke. 

“Woof! Woof!” he answered promptly, and 
they all knew that he meant “Yes.” 

So Mr. Melville got pen and ink and wrote 
to the poundmaster, telling that Prince Jan was 
safe and well, and that he, himself, would bring 
the dog home. 

That was how Prince Jan came back to the 
captain and Hippity-Hop, at last. He was 
very happy at going home, yet he looked back 
wistfully at Ruth and Charlotte standing on 
the porch waving their hands, as the automobile 
drove away from the Land of Make-Believe, 
where Jan had been so kindly treated. But 
when he saw the ocean again and the road up the 
bluff and knew that he was near the bungalow, 
he was ready to leap from the machine and dash 
madly to the place where the captain, Hippity- 
Hop, and Cheepsie lived. He knew then that 
he loved them more than anybody in the whole 
world. 


Chapter XI 

Prince Jan Visits Shorty 

J AN reached the front gate and let out a 
ringing “Woof” of joy that brought the 
captain and Hippity-Hop out at once. 
The old man’s arms went about Jan’s neck, and 
the dog gave little whines of delight, his tongue 
touched the wrinkled hands, and his tail went 
around so fast that it did not look like a tail, but 
just a blur of fuzzy hair. 

When Mr. Melville was seated, and the Cap¬ 
tain on a chair near by, Jan’s head rested on the 
old man’s knee and the toil-worn fingers stroked 
the dog’s soft fur. Hippity-Hop rubbed against 
Jan’s legs, purring like a noisy little buzz-saw, 
and Cheepsie fiew down from his cage to perch 
first on the shoulder of the captain and then on 
Prince Jan’s head, while a fiood of bird-music 
filled the little room. 

“I wish the children could see Jan now!” said 
Mr. Melville, and then he told the captain about 

114 




















PRINCE JAN VISITS SHORTY 117 


finding Jan and the story in the paper that had 
brought the dog back to his master. 

Hippity-Hop had been very lonely after Jan’s 
disappearance, and the dog did not dream that 
the three-legged kitten had mewed and mewed 
for him until the old captain picked her up in 
his arms and said, “He will come back to us some 
day, Plippity-Hop.” And each day the old man, 
with the kitten at his side, sat on the front porch 
watching down the road. 

The morning after Jan’s return, Mr. Melville 
came again to the bungalow and he and the cap¬ 
tain called Jan to get in the automobile with 
them. Hippity-Hop’s forlorn little face peered 
between the curtains of the front window, but 
none of them heard her plaintive cry as they all 
vanished from her sight. When the automobile 
stopped, Jan saw a grey building of stones with 
windows crossed by iron bars. He followed his 
friends into a large room where several men were 
seated. They spoke to the captain and Mr. 
Melville, and all looked at Jan, patting his head 
for some reason, as they talked of him. 

Then Jan, the captain, and Mr. Melville fol¬ 
lowed another man through long dim hallways 
that had doors on either side, very close together. 


118 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


One of these doors was unlocked, and as Jan and 
his friends passed through, the door was shut and 
locked again. 

They were in a dingy room with grey walls, 
the only window being high up and criss-crossed 
by bars. It was a very small window. On a cot 
in a corner of the room sat a man. He turned his 
head toward them and when he saw the dog, he 
jumped to his feet, calling, “Jan!” 

“Woof!” answered the dog in surprise as he 
leaped toward the man. 

Shorty dropped on his knees and took Jan’s 
head between his hands, talking to the big dog 
as though talking to a little child whom he 
loved very dearly. Jan did not know, nor would 
he have cared had he known, that Shorty was in 
jail. He only knew that this was his friend who 
had tried to protect him from William’s abuse. 
And all the while. Captain Smith and the artist 
were watching them with kindly eyes. 

At last. Shorty rose and sat on his narrow 
cot, with his two visitors on either side, and Jan, 
planted right in front of Shorty, turned his head 
from one to the other as though he were trying 
to understand what they were talking about so 
earnestly. Shorty’s hand stroked Jan’s head. 


PRINCE JAN VISITS SHORTY 119 


and every once in awhile the man would say, 
“I’m so glad you found him.” 

“You love dogs, don’t you?” asked the old 
poundmaster, as they rose to go. 

Shorty looked down at Jan for a second, then 
answered, “I never had any friends in my life 
excepting dogs.” 

They left Shorty alone in the little grey room 
and went back to the men in the big room, where 
the sun streamed across the floor like a tiny river 
of gold, but back in the other room the window 
was so high and so small that the sun could not 
shine through it at all. Shorty did not think 
about that now. 

The captain talked to the men, who listened 
attentively, and Anally he said, “Judge, I don’t 
believe that any one who loves dogs and is kind 
to them is bad all the way through. Shorty says 
he never had a friend in his life except dogs.” 

“I do not think he is naturally bad,” answered 
the judge, who sat in a big chair back of a high 
desk. “From what I can learn, he has been 
under William Leavitt’s control since they were 
children. Shorty tried to get away from his 
brother twice, but each time William found and 
punished him so brutally that the boy was afraid 


120 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


to venture again. There are scars on Shorty’s 
feet made by a hot iron the last time he tried to 
escape from his brother. Shorty is not quite 
nineteen yet. That is how he comes under the 
Juvenile Court.” 

“Judge,” exclaimed the captain, his face 
ahght with eager pleading, “you know there’s 
lots of people that folks call bad, who would be 
decent if they had a chance. Can’t you give 
Shorty a chance to show that he wants to make 
good? Send him some place where his brother 
can’t find him?” 

“Your Honor,” the artist spoke now, “if there 
is any way to arrange it, I would like to take the 
lad up to Roseneath and we will try to help him 
make good in our Land of Make-Believe, as we 
call our home.” 

Jan did not understand what they were say¬ 
ing, but he knew it had something to do with 
Shorty and that the captain was talking very 
earnestly, so the dog edged between his two 
friends and stood watching the man at the high 
desk, for all in the room were looking at him. 
This man was very quiet, and seemed to be think¬ 
ing, then he looked up and said, “Bring Shorty 
in here.” 


PRINCE JAN VISITS SHORTY 121 


A few minutes passed in silence, then the door 
swung open and Shorty shuffled through it. He 
blinked in the bright sunlight and ducked his 
head as though he were afraid to look up at them 
all. Jan moved quickly and pushed his nose into 
Shorty’s hand. The face above him lighted with 
a sudden, winning smile. The judge watched 
them both but did not speak. Then Shorty re¬ 
membered where he was and raised his head to 
face the man on the high platform. That man 
was looking with very kindly eyes at the lad and 
the dog. 

‘‘Shorty,” the judge spoke very plainly, “if 
I give you two years’ suspended sentence and let 
you go with Mr. Melville to live on his ranch, 
will you try to make good?” 

Shorty only stared stupidly. The judge re¬ 
peated his words more slowly and added, “We 
will not let it be known where you are, so you 
need have no fear of William. I want to know 
if you will give me your solemn promise—your 
word of honor—^to do your very best?” 

Shorty’s face twitched, his eyes blinked fast, 
his hands reached out as if he were feeling for 
some other hand to grasp. The hands hesitated, 
groped, then one hand moved upward across his 


122 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


face as though to brush something away that 
kept him from seeing plainly. Those in the room 
watched but made no sound. 

‘Do you mean it, Judge?” the lad’s voice was 
low and husky, but there was a tone of pleading 
in it. “You ain’t just fooling, are you. Judge?” 

“No,” the judge spoke very firmly, “I’m not 
fooling. Shorty. You are going to get your 
chance.” 

They saw Shorty fling himself down on his 
knees beside Prince Jan and pull the dog close to 
him, while racking sobs shook the boy’s shoul¬ 
ders. Jan twisted around to lick Shorty’s face 
and comfort him, for the dog did not know his 
friend was crying from happiness. At last 
Shorty rose to his feet, brushing away the tears 
with his ragged coat sleeve. 

“Judge, I promise you I’ll make good or I’ll 
die in the trying,” he said, and all those who 
heard him knew he would do his best. 

The judge stepped down from the big chair 
and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, saying in 
a kindly voice, “You’re bound to make good. 
Shorty, and we are all your friends!” 

The other men shook Shorty’s hand, and the 
judge said, with a smile, “I have a nice collie 


PRINCE JAN VISITS SHORTY 128 


pup up at my home that I will give you, if Mr, 
Melville doesn’t object.” 

“We have no dog, now that Prince Jan is 
gone,” the artist answered quickly, “and I prom¬ 
ised my wife that I would bring back some kind 
of a dog for the children. They would be lone¬ 
some now, without one. So the pup will be just 
as welcome as Shorty will be.” 

Shorty forgot this man was a judge, and 
smiled at him, asking, “What’s the pup’s name, 
please?” 

“He is a registered pup with a long fancy 
name, but we just call him ‘Pup,’ so you can pick 
out a name to suit yourself.” 

“I’m going to call him ‘Prince Jan’!” an¬ 
nounced the boy, and all agreed that it was a fine 
name for any pup. 

They shook hands once more with Shorty and 
wished him good luck, and when the boy walked 
from the room, he held his head high. A smile 
was on his lips and hope in his eyes. Mr. Mel¬ 
ville walked beside him. 

That evening when Jan, Hippity-Hop, 
Cheepsie, and the captain were sitting together, 
the old man looked at the dog and said, “Jan, 
your ancestors rescued travellers from the snow. 


124 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


but to-day you helped Shorty get a new start 
in life, and that is a bigger thing than if you had 
saved him from death in the Alps.” 

The dog did not understand the words, but he 
knew that the smile was the same happy smile 
that came when the old poundmaster had found 
a good home for one of the friendless dogs. So 
Jan was happy, too. 


Chapter XII 

The Poundmaster’s Problem 

F or several days after Shorty had gone on 
his way to the Land of Make-Believe 
with Mr. Melville, life ran very quietly 
and happily for Prince Jan and his friends in the 
little bungalow on the cliffs. Then he began to 
notice that Captain Smith was worried, and 
when Jan poked his nose into the hand of his 
friend, though the hand stroked the dog’s head, 
the poundmaster did not smile and his eyes 
looked as if he saw something Jan could not see. 
It worried Jan, though he could do nothing but 
lie quietly with his anxious eyes fixed on the old 
man’s face. 

One evening after supper a loud knock at the 
door caused the dog to look up quickly, while 
Hippity-Hop jumped with fuzzed tail and ex¬ 
cited eyes. The captain opened the door and 
two men came in. They shook hands with him 
and sat down in the chairs he pushed forward. 
The two men looked around the room, stared at 
125 


126 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


the dog, then turned to Jan’s master. The look 
on the poundmaster’s face made the dog feel cer¬ 
tain that these men had something to do with the 
old man’s worry, so Jan went over and sat close 
to him, resting his big head on the captain’s 
knee. 

‘Ts that the dog that was stolen?” one of the 
visitors asked at last. 

“Yes,” replied the captain. “This is Prince 
Jan. He was sent to the pound almost dead 
with mange and orders through the stableman 
that the dog was to be killed because he was 
vicious. But,” the poundmaster smiled down at 
the dog that was gazing with loving eyes into his 
face, “you see, all he needed was kind treatment 
and proper care.” 

“I understand. Smith,” the other man now 
spoke in a voice that sounded cross to Jan, “that 
you are violating the City ordinances, and are 
keeping the dogs that are brought to the pound. 
They are sent here to be killed, not kept.” 

“I find homes for them all,” the old man 
hastened to say, “and it only takes a short time 
to find people who will give them good homes. 
Not one of the dogs that has been brought here 
since I had charge has been vicious. Those that 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 127 


seemed dangerous at first grew gentle and kind 
as soon as they found no one would hurt them.” 

“Of course, we know how you feel about them, 
but the City hires you to kill the dogs if their 
owners do not claim or want them. People com¬ 
plain that you keep the dogs and feed them at the 
public expense. We can’t have that, you know.” 

Captain Smith rose, and the hand he held out 
suddenly toward the two men was trembling. 
“I don’t know who told you that,” he said earn¬ 
estly, “and I don’t believe that whoever did say 
it meant to tell an untruth, but the only dogs 
that are fed at public cost are those for which I 
am allowed money. After any dog has been 
with me for more than a week, I pay for his food 
myself.” 

The two strange men looked at each other and 
were silent a few minutes. Finally one of them 
spoke again. 

“I’m sorry. Smith, but you will have to get rid 
of the dogs. The pound is not a boarding place 
for stray dogs, and the fact that you pay for 
their feed after a certain time does not change 
matters.” 

The old man sat down in his chair as though he 
were very tired, and stared at the floor until he 


128 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

felt Jan’s nose, and then he looked into the dog’s 
sympathetic eyes. The wrinkled hand twitched, 
but the old man’s kindly face turned to the other 
man. 

“I know you can’t change the law,” he said 
slowly, “but if you could let me have a little 
more time, I can find homes for all the dogs that 
are here now. There are only ten, beside Prince 
Jan, and he belongs to me. See”—he pushed 
aside the thick hair on the dog’s neck—“I bought 
a collar and a license for him, and he has never 
eaten a mouthful of food except what I have paid 
for myself.” 

“Too many people have complained,” was the 
reply. “The dogs are noisy, and no one is al¬ 
lowed to have so many dogs inside the city limits. 
You know it is against the law. Smith. That set¬ 
tles it.” 

Both men rose to their feet and looked at the 
old man, but at the door they stopped and 
talked together in low voices. Then one of them 
turned and said, “We don’t want to be too hard 
on you, for we know you love dogs, so we will 
give you two days to find places for them. After 
that, the dogs that are still here must be killed. 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 129 


or you will have to resign your position as 
poundmaster.” 

Smith watched them go down the pathway to 
the front gate, then with low drooping head and 
slow steps he went back to the little room. Jan 
pressed closely against him as the old man sank 
into his chair. Cheepsie flew from his cage and 
perched on the captain’s shoulder, singing 
loudly, and Hippity-Hop, not to be left from 
the little family group, limped across the room 
and rubbed, purring, against the old pound- 
master’s leg. They knew that he was troubled, 
and all of them tried to make him understand 
they were sorry for him and loved him. 

“We’ve got to do something for those poor 
dogs,” he said to Jan, at last. “Even if I do 
give up my job it won’t help them, now. I can’t 
find homes for them all in such a short time, Jan. 
Nearly every one I know here has a dog already, 
and some of them have two. Folks have been 
mighty good taking my dogs.” 

Cheepsie sang an answer, Hippity-Hop 
purred her reply, and Prince Jan’s tail, thump¬ 
ing the floor, said very plainly that he agreed 
with his master. The captain smiled at them 
all, for he understood their languages. “It’s 


130 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

bound to work out right, somehow,” he asserted 
cheerfully, and again his three dumb friends an¬ 
swered him. 

The next morning Captain Smith left Jan and 
Hippity-Hop in the front yard. It was the first 
time the old man had ever carried his violin with 
him, and he trudged briskly down the street, only 
stopping when he reached a corner to wave his 
hand back where Jan and the kitten stood with 
noses pushed between the pickets of the fence. 
Jan was worried because it was the first time 
the captain had gone away from the house with¬ 
out him. 

So, while Hippity-Hop climbed trees, chased 
butterflies, and washed her face and paws many 
times, the dog kept perfectly quiet, watching for 
his master’s return. A big bark welcomed the 
captain home as Jan ran down the street to meet 
him. 

“Come along, Jan,” the old man was smiling, 
and the dog trotted beside him into the pound, 
where the other dogs pulled on their ropes and 
greeted them noisily. 

The poundmaster stopped in front of each 
dog and fastened a small metal tag to its collar, 
then he took them all into his own back yard. 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 131 


where they crowded and leaped about him or 
chased each other in play. One dog was so happy 
that he kept turning around and around after 
his own short tail until he was too dizzy to stand 
up.^ 

“It’s a pretty good-sized family, Jan,” 
laughed the old man, as he sat in a chair on the 
back porch, smoking his pipe and watching the 
dogs’ antics. “They’ve all got licenses now, so 
no one can order any of ’em killed for a year. I 
guess we can find homes for all of them before 
that time is up.” 

So, when the two men came again, Captain 
Smith took them into the back yard and showed 
the license on each dog’s collar, as he said, “I 
have found homes for five of them already, and 
to-morrow I’ll take the others to a friend in the 
country. He will look out for them until we 
have good places for all.” 

He smiled happily at the dogs, then looked up 
at the two men, but his smile faded at their next 
words. 

“Well, what do you intend doing with the 
next bunch you collect?” 

“Why, I’ll get homes for them, like these 
others,” 


132 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


‘‘That won’t do, Smith. Either you’ve got to 
take care of the work as you are ordered, or else 
let some other man have your place. What are 
you going to do about it?” 

Smith’s hand rumpled the fur on Jan’s back. 
The eyes of the dog and the old man met, then 
the poundmaster lifted his head and said quietly, 
“I will give up the place. I thought when I took 
this work that it would give me a chance to make 
some poor dumb brutes a little happier and more 
comfortable, but I never intended to shoot one 
of them. Why, I couldn’t do that. They’re all 
my friends!” 

“All right,” was the answer. “Suit yourself. 
We’ll have another man take charge to-morrow 
morning.” 

Without further words the men left, and the 
captain, followed by Jan, went into the back 
yard where the ten dogs rushed to meet them. 
Barking, leaping, tumbling over each other, they 
struggled to get close to the old man who stood 
smiling and patting them, while he said softly, 
“The best friends a man ever had, Jan.” 

Prince Jan looked at the bunch of dogs, little 
dogs, big dogs, curs, and dogs of high breeding. 
No matter where they had come from, they had 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 138 


found a protector in the old poundmaster, but 
they did not know that he had given up his posi¬ 
tion because he would not kill them. Even Jan 
did not know what his master was writing that 
evening. It took some time to get the letter just 
right, then it was folded, placed in an envelope, 
sealed and stamped, and Jan walked with the 
captain to the letter-box several blocks away. 

When they were home again, the old man sat 
smoking his pipe and nodding, then he got up 
and wound the clock, for it was Saturday night. 
As he put the key on top of the clock, he said, 
“Well, Jan, we’ll have to hunt for another job 
on Monday, but I don’t think it will take long 
for us to find something we can do.” 

Monday morning people came for the dogs, 
and the captain patted each of his four-footed 
friends, before it went to its new home. A man 
from a ranch brought an automobile, and into 
this the five dogs which had not yet found per¬ 
manent homes were lifted. Then the captain 
took out his worn pocketbook and counted 
money, which he handed to the rancher, 

“Take good care of them for me,” said the old 
man, “and I’ll pay for their food until we find 
homes for them all.” 


134 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


“All right, Smith,” the man answered, and 
then he drove away with the yelping dogs. 

It was very quiet in the house and back yard, 
but Hippity-Hop was glad of it. She had not 
enjoyed herself while there were so many dogs 
in the back of the house. After lunch was over, 
the captain dressed himself in his best clothes, 
put on his hat, and with Jan at his side, went to 
many big buildings where he talked earnestly 
with several men. 

They were very kind to him, patted Jan, and 
promised they would let the captain know if 
they saw any work he could do. Jan saw that 
his old friend seemed tired after they had been to 
several places, and when the dog thrust his nose 
into the captain’s hand, the faded eyes would 
smile bravely, as the captain said, “It’s bound 
to work out right in the end, Jan.” 

Day after day, they made these trips, and at 
night Jan lay watching the face of his master, 
but the smile was not seen very often now. One 
evening the old man was more despondent than 
ever, so even Jan’s wistful sympathy failed to 
rouse him, though the hand caressed the dog. 
Jan’s heart ached, and unable to stand it longer. 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 135 


he pushed his head on the captain’s knee and 
gave a low whimper. 

Captain Smith leaned down and lifted the 
dog’s head between his hands and looking into 
his puzzled eyes, he said slowly, “We’re up 
against it, Jan. My money is gone, and there 
does not seem to be any work for me to do. 
Every one is very kind, and all promise to send 
for me, but it is just because they are sorry. If 
I were younger, it would be easy to find plenty 
to do.” 

Jan licked the gnarled hand and tried to show 
that he wished he could help, but the only thing 
he could do was to show the love and sympathy 
that filled his loyal heart. That night when the 
light was out and everything was quiet, Jan lay 
wide awake trying to puzzle out what it all 
meant, and then he heard a faint sigh and knew 
that the captain, on his cot, was awake, too. So 
the dog rose softly and moved to the side of the 
narrow bed, where he stretched himself on the 
floor. Presently he felt a hand touch his head 
and he turned quickly to caress it with his 
tongue. Then he heard the old man say, “It’s 
bound to work out right some way, Jan!” 

The next morning the captain was more 


136 PRIISrCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


cheerful, and when the postman came along the 
street, the old man called out, “It’s a beautiful 
day, isn’t it?” 

The postman nodded, then said, “I have a reg¬ 
istered letter for you. Captain.” 

With surprised eyes and quick steps, the old 
man reached the gate and signed the card. He 
turned the letter over, stared at it, then smiled 
and cried out, “It’s from my daughter!” 

A happy smile illumined his face and his fin¬ 
gers were unsteady as he tore open the envelope, 
saying, “She and her husband went to Alaska 
two years ago. I haven’t heard anything from 
them for six months. You see, when winter be¬ 
gins up there, the river freezes solid, so no boats 
or mail can reach them.” 

“Well, the postmen up there have an easy 
time once in a while,” replied the letter-carrier as 
he slung the heavy pouch over his shoulder and 
went on his way. 

The old man sat on the step of the porch and 
read the letter, which was a long one. Jan knew 
his master was glad over something, and yet, 
when the letter was finished, there were tears 
rolling down the captain’s cheeks. Jan edged 
tightly against him. 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 137 


“They’re all well,” said the old man, “and 
they want us to come and live with them. Look, 
Jan!” He held out a piece of paper which the 
dog sniffed at. “That is to pay our way, and 
we’re going to start just as soon as we can pack 
up. You see, it worked out right in the end!” 

Busy hours followed for them all. The cap¬ 
tain hurried about the little house, packing things 
into boxes, and taking down pictures, which he 
put into a trunk. One picture he held for some 
minutes, “That was Jenny when she was a little 
girl, just able to walk, Jan.” Then he wrapped 
it very carefully in a faded blue knitted scarf 
and placed it in the trunk with the other things. 
Hippity-Hop scurried about the room, and 
Cheep sie had a hard time clinging to the old 
man’s shoulder, for he moved so swiftly and kept 
leaning over the trunk. 

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the 
trunk was shut and locked and an old carpet-bag 
stood beside it. The captain’s hat was on his 
head, Cheepsie chirped in his cage that was 
wrapped tightly with paper, and Hippity-Hop 
mewed forlornly from a basket, while Jan 
moved nervously between the bundles and his 
master, wondering what it all meant. Then a 


138 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

man drove to the door and carried the trunk and 
valise to his wagon, leaving the captain to pick 
up the bird-cage and the hamper that held the 
kitten. 

“Come along, Jan,” he called cheerfully, and 
the dog rushed ahead, turning back to frisk in 
circles or leap up in front of his friends. Jan 
was much happier than Hippity-Hop, who was 
yowling loudly as she stuck one paw through 
a hole in the basket, and Cheepsie’s twitters 
sounded really cross. 

Jan, once again, was put in a baggage car and 
after a ride of several hours, the captain got 
him out and led him to a wharf. Jan remem¬ 
bered his trip in the boat when he came to the 
Land of No Snow. He hesitated to go up the 
plank walk, but the captain smiled and said, 
“It’s all right, Jan. Come along!” and then the 
dog trotted fearlessly along the boards that led 
to the deck of the big boat. Everything was 
confusion, but Jan did not worry when his mas¬ 
ter led him down into the lower part of the boat, 
under the deck. After tying Jan, the old man 
gave him a final pat and said, “I’ll be back soon, 
Jan”; and the dog, knowing everything was all 
right, stretched on his side and closed his eyes. 


POUNDMASTER’S PROBLEM 139 


He was tired from the trip, the excitement of 
packing, and from those days of worry before the 
letter came that made the captain happy again. 
So he was very glad to have nothing to do, noth¬ 
ing to think about. 

Then the boat trembled and puffed, and 
Prince Jan knew that he and Hippity-Hop and 
Cheepsie and their loved master were going 
somewhere together, and he was satisfied. 


Chapter XIII 

The Voices of the Hospice Dogs 

P RINCE JAN could not tell how many 
days and nights passed while the boat 
throbbed on its way. He grew accus¬ 
tomed to the motion and as the captain came 
often each day to see him and talk to him, and 
many other people also visited him, Jan found 
life very pleasant. 

Among his visitors was a pretty young woman 
with big brown eyes and a gentle voice. Nearly 
always a little child was in her arms, or held by 
the hand, for it was just beginning to walk. 
Captain Smith and these two seemed to be great 
friends. Many times he carried the baby in his 
arms and it laughed up in his face when he held 
it down to pat Jan’s head. The dog watched for 
them every day, and he was never disappointed. 
Once, the captain brought Hippity-Hop to see 
Jan, and the kitten purred loudly and rubbed 
against the dog’s legs, while Jan poked her 

140 


VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 141 


gently with his nose. The old man chuckled, 
“You haven’t forgotten each other, have you?” 
Then he picked up the kitten and carried it 
away. 

That night, without warning, everything 
seemed to change, somehow. The boat leaped 
and jumped as though it were frightened at the 
big waves that washed against and over it. The 
night was dark, and down in the hold of the 
vessel it was still darker. Jan listened to men 
running overhead, voices called loudly and then 
came a sudden crash. The boat quivered as 
though it were hurt. 

Jan was thrown so heavily against the side of 
the boat that he lay gasping for breath, then he 
dragged himself to his feet. Swaying with the 
jerky motion, but managing to brace himself, 
he peered through the inky darkness toward the 
steps leading to the deck. Again he heard the 
hurried feet, the loud voices of men, and this time 
there were cries of women and children, too. 

He knew something was not right, and as he 
pulled with all his strength on the rope that 
held him, and strained his eyes toward the stair¬ 
way, he heard a sound that made him give a loud 
bark of joy. 


142 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


“All right, Jan!” his master was calling 
through the darkness, “I’m coming!” 

The dog whimpered and licked the hands that 
fumbled at the rope which was tied to the side of 
the boat. With a leap and yelp of joy, Jan 
scrambled up the stairs ahead of his master, and 
both of them reached the deck. 

It was very early in the morning and the sky 
was heavy with dark clouds. The wind screamed 
and big waves tossed so high that at times the 
boat appeared to be down in the bottom of a 
great hole. Although the vessel jerked, groaned, 
creaked and crunched, it did not move forward. 
When the water washed back a few minutes, Jan 
saw jagged rocks poking up and felt the boat 
pounding on them. He could not understand it 
at all, and as he looked up with puzzled eyes at 
his master, he saw the old man was staring 
straight ahead at a strip of land not very far 
away, where a lot of people were running about 
in a great hurry. 

One of the boat crew ran past Jan, carrying 
a rope. Other men were fastening queer looking 
rings about the bodies of women and children, 
while still more men were lowering a little boat 
into the water. But as soon as it touched the 


VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 143 


waves, it was turned on end and smashed like an 
egg-shell against the side of the ship. Jan, 
standing with his legs braced firmly, saw the 
frightened women and children huddled to¬ 
gether. Most of them were vcxy quiet, but some 
were crying. A few were kneeling on the wet 
deck, and though their eyes were shut, Jan knew 
they were not asleep, for their lips were moving 
as if they were talking to some one whom he 
could not see. 

The shore did not seem very far away, and 
Jan saw men pushing a little boat into the water. 
They leaped into it quickly and grabbed up oars. 

“Thank God!” said the old poundmaster to 
a man who stood beside him and Jan. “The Life 
Guards will save the women and children!” 

“There is no Life Saving Station here,” Jan 
heard a woman’s voice reply. He looked up and 
saw the pretty lady beside his old master. Her 
face was very white and she held her baby 
tightly in her arms, while she stared at the place 
where the tiny boat was being shoved into the 
sea by men who stood waist-deep in the rushing 
water. Then the boat shot high on a wave and 
started toward the ship. Those on the shore 
joined in the cheers that sounded on the stranded 


144 PRIlSrCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


ship; but even as they cheered, a bigger wave 
snatched at the boat and overturned it, dumping 
all the men into the sea. The little boat was 
dashed on the beach, but those who had been 
rowing it bobbed about in the water until helped 
to land. 

A group of men, who had been talking with a 
man wearing a cap trimmed with gold braid, now 
carried a rope to the side of the ship and tossed 
it swiftly towai’d land. Men on the shore were 
trying to launch another boat, and every one 
on the ship leaned forward watching them. The 
waves carried the rope some distance forward, 
and then tossed it back against the ship’s side 
as though playing with it, just as a cat plays with 
a mouse. Tangled and twisted, the rope rose 
on the crest of a high wave, then dropped from 
sight, only to bob up once more, and all the time 
drifting further from land. 

“The vessel will be driftwood in half an hour 
more! She is breaking amidships!” the man be¬ 
side Jan was speaking again to the poundmaster. 
“No boat can live in such a sea and no man can 
swim it.” 

Captain Smith looked down at Jan. “It 
doesn’t count so much with us, Jan,” he said, 


VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 145 


“but it’s the women and children. Maybe you 
can help them. Come!” 

The dog started at the sound of command and 
followed his master across the water-washed 
deck to the group of ship’s officers who were 
gathered around the captain of the boat. All 
were talking earnestly when old Captain Smith 
and Jan pushed between them. 

“Maybe Jan can take the rope to shore,” said 
the poundmaster, while his hand rested on Jan’s 
wet fur. “He’s a splendid swimmer and isn’t 
afraid of the water.” 

The man with the gold-trimmed cap looked 
down at the dog whose intelligent eyes turned 
from face to face as though doing his best to find 
out why they were all looking at him, and what 
they wanted. 

“It is too much to expect of a dog,” said the 
man, shaking his head. “Even if he were strong 
enough, he could not understand.” 

“Jan understands everything I tell him,” in¬ 
sisted the old man, “and it wouldn’t be any harm 
to try him. When he once knows what we want 
him to do, he will do it or die in trying.” 

Just then the boat lurched badly and the peo¬ 
ple slipped and shd on the slanting, wet deck, bul 


146 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Jan did not move. His firm muscles stiffened, 
he braced himself steadily and his strong back 
straightened. The group of officers began talk¬ 
ing again and Jan heard them say something 
about his strength to Captain Smith. A heavier 
wave lifted the ship from the rocks then dropped 
her back on the jagged edges that were stabbing 
her to the heart, while she writhed and groaned 
like a living thing in agony begging for help. 

The ship’s captain turned his eyes on the group 
of women and children, then to the shore, as 
though he were measuring the distance across 
the raging water that boomed between the boat 
and land. Slowly he turned back to the old man 
and the dog. 

“He may be able to do it, if you can make him 
understand,” he said at last. Then he added in 
a low voice, “It is our only hope!” 

Jan saw these men all were looking at him 
and then the ship’s captain spoke. 

“If the dog can reach shore with the fight rope 
so we can attach the heavier one, we can rig up 
a breeches-buoy with the boatswain’s chair, and 
the women and children could ride safely, for we 
could lash them to it.” 

Captain Smith leaned down and took Jan’s 


VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 147 


head between trembling hands. The dog and 
he looked into each other’s eyes, and those who 
watched the two, felt a little thrill of hope. The 
animal seemed struggling to grasp the meaning 
of the old man’s words. A bit of rope was in the 
captain’s hand, he held it to Jan, who sniffed, 
then looked back at his master. 

Still holding the piece of rope. Captain Smith 
led the dog to the side of the boat and pointed 
at the tangled coils that washed on the surface 
of the waves a short distance away. 

“Go get it, Jan!” called the old man sharply. 

The people on the deck crowded more closely, 
and the dog braced himself to spring, but just 
then a huge wave rose high over the vessel, the 
white-crested tip hissing like an angry snake, and 
Jan looked down, down, down into a dark hole 
and below it gleamed the jagged peaks of the 
reef, like threatening teeth of a hidden monster. 
He knew the danger. Drawing back he turned 
pleading eyes on his master. 

“Go, Jan,” said the voice he loved, but this 
time it did not command, it begged. 

The big wave slipped back, others rose behind 
it, each one tipped with white foam, and between 
those waves were deep, dark hollows. Jan 


148 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

looked at them, and as be looked, something 
changed those white-capped things into snowy 
peaks of the mountains around the Hospice, 
while the dark places between were changed to 
chasms and crevasses, where Barry, Pluto, 
Pallas, Rex and all the dogs of the Hospice had 
travelled year after year for ten centuries past. 
He heard their voices calling him. Jan’s ears 
cocked up, his body quivered, his muscles stif¬ 
fened, his nose pointed high in the air and the 
cry he sent back to the calls of his kin was clear 
and strong like the music of a wonderful, deep- 
toned bell. Then he braced himself and leaped 
far out into the water that caught him like many 
strong arms and dragged him under the waves. 

With all his great strength Jan fought his 
way to the surface and as he rose, something 
struck against him. He turned quickly to see 
what new danger threatened, and then he saw the 
rope and remembered what he had been told. 

“Go get it, Jan!” his master had said. 

The dog caught the squirming rope between his 
teeth, and as he did so, he heard distinctly the 
cheers of those on the stranded ship echoed by 
those on the shore before he was pulled down 
beneath the waves again; but he clung to the 


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VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 151 


rope. When he reached the surface, Jan saw 
his master leaning far over the edge of the deck, 
pointing toward the land. 

Then he understood, and without a mo¬ 
ment’s hesitation he flung his body away from 
the direction of the boat and faced the shore, 
while the rope trailed behind him, often dragging 
him back with terriflc jerks. The force of the 
waves tossed him high on dizzy crests, then 
he was dropped swiftly into depths of seething 
water. His breath came in painful gasps be¬ 
tween his tightly clinched teeth, the water rang 
in his ears and he was half-blinded by the sting¬ 
ing salt spray that cut like a sharp knife across 
his eyes. 

In spite of his struggles he seemed no nearer 
the land. Back of him he could see the swaying 
masts of the boat, and at times the whole length 
of the deck with people crowded together. Jan, 
dazed and almost exhausted, turned to swim 
back to his master and safety. His paws beat 
the waves more feebly, but his teeth still held 
the rope. Down, down, down he sank, and over 
his head rolled the white-crested mountains of 
water. Then the roaring in his ears turned to the 
voices of the Hospice dogs. The voices of Barry, 


152 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Bruno, Rex and Jan’s mother sounded clearly. 
Other dogs joined in the chorus until Jan knew 
that he heard the voices of all the dogs that had 
ever lived in the Hospice. Hundreds and hun¬ 
dreds of deep notes, like the bells of the Hospice 
sending a message to him. “The duty of a St. 
Bernard is to save hves!” 

He fought with new strength, and as his head 
rose above the waves, the rope still dragging 
along, he heard cheers that grew nearer and 
louder, but this time the voices came from the 
land. A breaker curled high, dashed furiously 
over him and then it carried him with a rush to 
the beach and flung him, gasping and exhausted, 
high on the sand, but the end of the rope was 
clutched tightly between his teeth. He held it, 
even when men tried to take it from him, but 
the hands were kindly and as his jaws relaxed 
he was lifted gently and carried where the cruel 
waves could not touch him again. 

Jan was too tired to open his eyes when some 
one knelt beside him and stroked his wet hair, 
and a man’s voice said huskily, “You wonderful, 
brave fellow!” 

Cheers sounded loud and long, and at last 
Jan opened his eyes and lifted his head wearily 


VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 153 

for a second. Before it dropped again to the 
sand, he saw men on the shore working with an¬ 
other, heavier rope, and some one called out, 
‘‘Thank God! They got it that time!’’ 

Jan staggered to his feet and with wobbling 
legs moved a few steps forward. Then he forgot 
his weariness and aching muscles and stood 
watching something strange, something that 
made women near him cry, and the men cheer 
wildly. 

A rope reached from the shore to the stranded 
ship, and something was moving slowly along 
that rope toward the land. Jan’s feet were in 
the surf, but he did not know it as he, too, 
watched and saw a chair, and in that chair was 
a woman. 

She was seized by eager hands and lifted down 
among them, laughing and crying and saying, 
“Oh, quick! Save the others!” 

Again and again the chair travelled over the 
waves that leaped up to clutch it, but the rope 
was firm. And once when a woman was car¬ 
ried in the chair, a man on the shore gave a big 
cry of joy as he clasped her in his arms. Jan 
recognized the pretty lady, but she did not have 
her baby in her arms this time. Then every one 


154 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

was silent, only a woman’s sob sounded softly, 
and the pretty lady stood staring across the 
water, where high above the waves swung a big 
leather mailbag. It came nearer and nearer, 
and men went far out into the surf to steady it, 
until it was unfastened, lifted down, opened, 
and the pretty lady, crying and laughing, held 
her baby in her arms, and the child laughed back 
at them all. 

Men cheered and cheered, and from the ship 
came answering cheers, while the mother and 
father of the child knelt down beside the dog, 
saying, “You saved her. Prince Jan!” 

The dog watched vainly for his master. Trip 
after trip brought men and women to the land, 
and each one was welcomed wildly. Then Jan, 
still watching, gave a great “Woof!” and rushed 
out into the water. The chair was approaching 
the shore, and in the chair was Jan’s master. A 
basket was held in the old man’s lap and on it 
was fastened a bird cage with a badly frightened 
canary. Through a break in the basket waved 
Hippity-Hop’s furry paw. Those on the shore 
scattered as Prince Jan raced among them 
uttering hysterical yelps until his master stood 
safely beside him and leaned down catching the 


VOICES OF THE HOSPICE DOGS 155 


dog’s long, soft ears and pulling them gently, 
while he said over and over, “Jan, Prince Jan! 
I knew you would do it!” 

And so, ninety-one people were brought safely 
to shore in the boatswain’s chair with the rope 
that Prince Jan had carried, and the baby that 
had ridden in the mail sack was kissed and 
hugged by all those who could get near her. 

Then Prince Jan followed the captain, the 
pretty lady, and the man who walked beside her 
with the baby perched high on his shoulder, and 
who had his other arm around the waist of the 
baby’s mother. A tiny paw reached out of the 
hamper Captain Smith was carrying, and the 
dog felt the tap of Hippity-Hop’s paw on his 
ear. He turned at the touch and put his nose to 
the basket, and then he saw Cheepsie, fluttering 
in the cage that was gripped by the old captain’s 
other hand. 

The little party reached the top of a bluff and 
turned around to look across the rough waves. 
The deserted ship reeled sideways. Water rose 
and hid it an instant. When next they looked, 
there was nothing but the sky with threatening 
clouds and the wind-lashed sea. 

No one spoke as they went up the pathway 


156 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


of a little house where the pretty lady lived. The 
door was opened, they entered, and then the 
pretty lady knelt suddenly beside Jan and kissed 
his head. 

“God bless you, Prince Jan!” she whispered. 

And though the dog did not understand it, he 
was very happy because he knew they were all 
glad. 


Chapter XIV 
A Fireside Story 

T hat evening, after supper, while Jan 
dozed in front of the fireplace with its 
cheerful, glowing logs, and Hippity- 
Hop curled in a tight ball between his paws, he 
did not know that the captain was telling how 
Jan had been brought to the pound, sick from 
neglect and vicious from abuse, to be killed. 

The eyes of the young mother filled with tears, 
and she glanced from the sleeping dog to a door 
leading into another room, where her baby was 
lying, safe and warm. But when she stooped, 
suddenly and stroked the dog’s head gently, his 
eyes opened, his tail thumped the floor, and then 
Jan went to sleep again, for he was very tired. 

And while he took his second nap, the father 
of the baby explained to the captain that he was 
the doctor in the little town, and had it not been 
for Prince Jan, the pretty little mother and her 
child would never have come back to the home on 
157 


158 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


the bluff, after their visit to friends in California. 

“Prince Jan was born in the Hospice,’' the old 
man told them. “He was only a puppy when 
Mr. Pixley brought him to California. To me, 
it never seemed just right, taking him away from 
the place where he belonged and where he could 
have been so useful, and then to treat him so 
cruelly. Of course, the Pixleys didn’t know the 
truth, but that didn’t help poor Jan.” 

The doctor turned and knelt down, studying 
the sleeping dog, then he rose and went back to 
his chair. 

“I took a walking tour of Switzerland after I 
finished my studies in Europe,” he said, at last. 
“So that was how I happened to be at the Hos¬ 
pice the day that dog was taken away. I had 
heard one of the monks tell about this dog’s 
father, who died saving travellers on an ice- 
bridge. I went on my way toward Italy, and I 
saw this dog start down the trail to Martigny, 
the opposite direction. I have never forgotten 
the pitiful look in his eyes nor the call he gave 
as he was led away. I felt then that it was a 
tragedy, but never had an idea of what the poor 
little fellow would have to suffer. Nor had I 


A FIRESIDE STORY 


159 


any idea that the lives of my dear ones would be 
saved through him!” 

“The only thing I ever knew about the St. 
Bernard dogs was that they lived at the Hospice 
and went out to hunt lost people in the snow,” 
the captain spoke. “You are the first one I ever 
knew who had been there. I wish I could have 
seen it and those splendid dogs!” 

“You know, the Pass of Great St. Bernard 
is the main road of travel between Italy and 
Switzerland,” the doctor went on, and his wife 
leaned forward as eagerly as Jan’s master to 
hear about Jan’s birthplace. “It was through 
this Pass that Napoleon Bonaparte led his army 
of soldiers, single file and afoot, in the month of 
May, 1800!” 

“I have read about that march,” interrupted 
the old man, “and I know what it meant, with 
food and ammunition and those big guns to haul. 
You see, I served all through the four years of 
the Civil War.” 

“May is the most dangerous time in the Alps, 
for the snow melts and slides in great avalanches, 
often catching people with no chance for escape. 
When I stood on the stone steps of the Hospice, 
where many feet have worn little hollows, and 


160 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


I remembered how many people would never 
have reached those steps without the dogs’ help, 
I felt that though Napoleon was a great general 
and a brave man, the dogs of the Hospice were 
just as great and just as brave. And the monu¬ 
ment to Barry, near the old Hospice, was as fine 
in my eyes as the beautiful white marble one that 
Napoleon built in memory of General de Sais, 
who died on that trip, and which is in the chapel 
of the Hospice. Both the general and Barry did 
their duty, as they saw it.” 

The little mother interrupted him, her eyes 
shining and her hands held out. “Napoleon 
made that march for his own glory and ambition, 
and to kill those who opposed his way,” she said, 
“but Barry and the other dogs risked death each 
day to save lives, with no thought of gain for 
themselves.” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” the old captain 
nodded and spoke. 

“What surprised me most,” continued the 
doctor, “was that the monks who live in the 
Hospice do not ask pay for anything they do. 
The people who stop there do not even have to 
pay for the food that is eaten. When I asked 
how much I owed for shelter and food those two 


A FIRESIDE STORY 


161 


days I was there, they smiled and told me there 
was no charge. Of course, I could not leave in 
that way, and when I insisted, I learned there 
was a little box in the Monastery Chapel for 
purely volunteer offerings. No one ever 
watches that box, and no one is ever asked to 
put anything into it. And yet,” he finished 
after a little pause, “often as many as five or 
six hundred people have stopped at the Hospice 
in one day. I was told that between twenty and 
twenty-five thousand people pass over the trail 
each year. Then when one remembers that for 
a thousand years the ancestors of Prince Jan 
have been travelling those trails and saving lives, 
one can understand the splendid work of those 
monks and the dogs.” 

“And to-day,” the little mother’s voice trem¬ 
bled, “dear old Prince Jan proved himself wor¬ 
thy of his ancestors and his heritage.” 

“Barry saved forty-two lives. His skin has 
been mounted and stands, wonderfully life-like, 
in the Museum of Berne,” the doctor said, 
thoughtfully. “He did the work in the familiar 
places, the work he had been trained to do; but 
to-day, there were ninety-two lives saved by 
Prince Jan, with only his wonderful intelligence 


162 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


to guide him through the sea and make him hold 
fast to that rope.” 

For several moments none of them spoke, but 
their eyes were on the dog that lay sleeping at 
their feet, while the little three-legged kitten 
snuggled closely against his breast and purred 
loudly. 

“One of the most pitiful sights at the Hospice 
is the House of the Dead, a short distance from 
the Hospice. Those who have never been iden¬ 
tified sleep there. Sometimes, you see, the dogs 
and monks are too late, or the avalanches of 
melting snow uncover people who have been 
buried months, or even years. The Hospice is 
built on solid rock, so there is no place to dig 
graves. Not a tree grows within seven miles of 
the buildings, because it is so cold, and there is 
no earth for the roots. It is a bare, desolate place 
at all times.” 

“Jan must have been bewildered, going 
from such a place to a home in California,” the 
little mother spoke. “And yet, see how he 
worked out his life and made himself worthy!” 

The doctor lighted a cigar and leaned back in 
his big chair. “The snow at the Hospice is not 
like snow in other places,” he finallj?' said. “You 


A FIRESIDE STORY 


163 


know how, usually, it clings in masses, and when 
trodden upon it packs firmly; but in the Alps 
during a storm, the snow freezes as it falls and 
forms into little hard pellets. These tiny lumps 
of ice pile up around a traveller, and when he 
tries to push onward he sinks as though in a bed 
of quicksand. Unless help is at hand he soon 
is buried out of sight. The winds sweep fiercely 
through the . passes between the mountain peaks, 
and send terrible, whirling clouds of snow that 
cut the face and blind the eyes, and many times 
a wanderer plunges over a precipice that he 
cannot see, or worn by struggles, he sinks ex¬ 
hausted to die. Then, there are the ice-bridges. 
What I am telling will give only a faint idea of 
the importance of the work of those magnificent 
dogs of the Hospice. And, then there is some¬ 
thing that is not generally known, but is just 
as heroic. The monks who go to the Hospice 
volunteer for that work, knowing fully that five 
years up there in the altitude and intense cold 
means practically the end of their lives. It ruins 
their lungs, and so, after a time, they go quietly 
down into the milder air of the Valley of the 
Rhone, in Italy, and there they wait cheerfully 
during the short span of life ahead of them. Only 


164 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


the young and strong monks are sent to the 
Hospice.” 

After the doctor ceased speaking they all sat 
silently and watched the blazing logs, for each 
of the listeners, as well as the doctor, was think¬ 
ing of the sacrifice and unselfishness of those 
monks, and the brave loyalty of their dog-friends 
on the trail. 

‘T wish I had enough money to send Prince 
Jan back to his own work and home,” the cap¬ 
tain said wistfully. “Maybe, though, I can 
manage it some day,” he added more hopefully. 
I feel as if he ought to be there with the others.” 

“You are right,” agreed the doctor, and his 
wife nodded her head quickly. “Jan’s work, his 
kin, his home, lie back there at the Hospice. I 
owe the lives of my wife and my baby to him, and 
if you are willing to let him go back there, I will 
take him back to the Hospice myself. But, 
won’t you miss him?” 

“It would make me as happy as it would make 
him, to know he was back there again,” answered 
the old man eagerly, as he stooped over and 
caressed the dog’s head. 

Jan, in his sleep, recognized the touch and 
swished his tail lightly, but he did not open his 


A FIRESIDE STORY 


165 


eyes, and he never knew what the doctor and the 
captain had been talking about that evening. 

But when it was known in the little town that 
the doctor was planning to take Prince Jan back 
to the Hospice, and those who had been saved 
from the ship heard the story of the dog, every 
one wanted to help. The newspaper printed the 
story of Prince Jan and his ancestors, and then 
people kept coming to see him, and most of them 
brought money for the trip back to the Hospice. 

A beautiful collar of silver was made for him, 
and on it were engraved the words, 

A Token of Gratitude from the Ninety-Two 

People whose Lives were Saved by Prince Jan, 

WHEN All Hope Was Lost. 

With this collar was a purse of money suffi¬ 
cient to pay Jan’s passage home, and a nice sum 
left over to give to the monks who cared for the 
dogs at the Hospice. 

But the biggest surprise of all came when 
Captain Smith found that he, too, was to make 
the trip to the Hospice with the doctor and 
Prince Jan. 

The old man wrote a letter to his daughter, 
explaining everything and saying he would come 


166 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


to her as soon as he and the doctor could get 
back. 

Jan did not know what all the excitement in 
the little home meant, but every one patted him 
or spoke kindly, and the old captain’s eyes were 
shining all the time, as he trotted about the 
rooms, whistling. 


Chapter XV 

An Unforgotten Trail 

O NCE again Jan went on a big boat, but 
he did not worry this time, because his 
friends were with him. Hippity-Hop 
and Cheepsie had been left with the doctor’s 
wife until the captain should return for them. 

The voyage was followed by travelling in a 
train, and each day of the whole journey the 
doctor and captain visited Jan. When he was 
on the train, his friends took him out of the car 
a number of times, so he could stretch his legs 
and run about on the ground while the train 
waited at a station. It did not take Jan long 
to understand that if he did not get back in the 
car he would be left behind. So he watched very 
carefully and at the first call of the captain or 
the doctor, he ran swiftly to the right car and 
jumped in it. Passengers on the long train 
watched him do this, for he never mistook his 
own car though there were several others just 
like the one in which he rode. 

167 


168 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Jan wore his silver collar, and wherever he 
went men and women would look at it, then pat 
his big head and praise him. He was very happy, 
though he did not know where he and his friends 
were going. 

From the train they stopped at a little town, 
and early the next morning Jan followed the 
doctor and the captain to a place where a funny 
little cart waited them. A sleepy-looking mule 
was hitched to the cart, and a driver stood at the 
mule’s head. After some talk between the driver 
and the doctor, the old captain climbed into the 
cart and the doctor trudged beside it, while the 
muleteer, as the drivers of these little carts are 
called, kept near the mule’s head. At first Jan 
followed behind them all, but in a short time he 
found that the road they were trudging became 
more steep. Then he trotted ahead and led the 
way, but looked back often to see that every 
one was all right. 

The town where they had spent the night was 
perched on a high bluff overlooking a noisy, 
scurrying little river that seemed in a great 
hurry to get some place else. The road Jan now 
travelled climbed higher and higher, but as he 
stopped and looked down he could see the river 


AN UNFORGOTTEN TRAIL 169 


gurgling and hurrying along. It was a queer 
little stream, and the muleteer called it the 
Dranse. In places Jan could not see it at all, 
and then when he thought it had gone in an¬ 
other direction, it popped out, foaming and 
spluttering as though it thought Jan had been 
fooled. Sometimes it appeared to be running 
backward, and then suddenly it seemed to be 
racing forward, and always it kept playing its 
game of hide-and-seek with them all, and laugh¬ 
ing and dancing like a merry elf or water-sprite. 
The river kept all of them interested until they 
stopped at a little village, which the muleteer 
said was Cantine de Proz. 

Here they walked about, while the mule was 
unhitched and the little wagon was left behind. 
The captain now climbed on the back of the 
mule, and the doctor and muleteer walked on 
either side of him. The road had changed to a 
narrow, slippery pathway, one side of which 
dropped down to a deep chasm with a fringe of 
snow showing here and there. 

In front of them loomed mountains, and as 
the path twisted sharply, Jan stopped short and 
stared ahead. Far away rose a huge white 
mountain, and around it grouped peaks of daz- 


170 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

zling snow, the first snow Jan had seen since he 
was a puppy. 

The doctor and the old man were watching 
him, but Jan did not see them. He was remem¬ 
bering things he had almost forgotten. Slowly 
the mule climbed, and the twisting trail turned 
and wound higher and higher. Jan lifted his 
head and sniffed the air that was growing colder. 
Then as they turned where the path seemed to 
end, the dog gave a loud bark and dashed ahead 
of them where something white lay on the 
ground. Faster and faster his feet flew until 
he stood in this white patch. His nose touched 
it and tossed it in little white clouds, he threw 
himself down and rolled over and over, then 
jumped to his feet and barked in sharp, excited 
tones. Again he snapped at it, and then he 
raced along the trail, frisking like a puppy, while 
the doctor and the captain kept smiling at each 
other and nodding their heads. 

But not until a tiny cabin was reached, where 
they all went inside to rest a short time, did 
Prince Jan recognize the little Rest House and 
knew that the white trail winding up the moun¬ 
tain side would end at the door of the Hospice. 

So, when the old man was perched again on 


AN UNFORGOTTEN TRAIL 171 


the mule and the travellers started toward the 
high white peak, Jan did not wait longer, but 
raced ahead of them, barking as he ran. Up, up, 
faster and faster, he ran. His heart pounded, 
his tongue hung far out of his mouth, he plunged 
his nose into the soft, cold drifts, sometimes 
stopping to take a big bite, then with yelps of 
joy he darted on. 

And high above the steep trail rose the sharp 
peaks that shadowed the hundreds of deep gul¬ 
lies: places where the snow never melted, even 
in summer. And Prince Jan knew that he was 
following once more the path that his forefathers 
had trodden. 

He stopped quickly and lifted his nose high, 
then he sent forth the great cry of the St. Ber¬ 
nard dogs. The deep tones echoed from crag to 
crag, until it sounded as if all the dogs that had 
ever trodden that trail were answering him. 

Another twist of the pathway showed the 
jagged tips of the highest peaks, and just back 
of that crest rose the roof of the Hospice. Jan 
stood still for a second before he sent again that 
call of his people. Again he heard the voices 
answering, but this time the answer came from 
the dogs in the kennel-yards. 


172 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Jan trembled with excitement, then he shot 
forward and did not stop until he had reached 
the worn stone steps that he remembered so well. 
The door was closed, but some instinct made 
him raise his head and give the cry of the trail. 

Slowly the big door swung open and Brother 
Antoine stood looking with puzzled eyes at a 
St. Bernard dog that he did not know. But Jan 
had not forgotten. He reared on his hind legs 
and let his front paws drop lightly on the shoul¬ 
ders of the monk. Their eyes were level, and 
as the dog looked at the monk. Brother Antoine 
called out, “Why! It is Jan—Prince Jan— 
come back to us!” 

“Woof! Woof!” Jan’s voice brought other 
monks hastily to the door, where Brother An¬ 
toine stood patting the big, strange dog that 
stood with bright shining eyes, looking from one 
to the other, while his fluffy tail bobbed and 
wagged furiously. 

As they stood talking and wondering how he 
came there, the doctor and the captain, with the 
muleteer, came in sight. So the mystery was 
fully understood. 

Inside the Hospice, the monks gathered 
around to listen to the story of the adventures 


AN UNFORGOTTEN TRAIL 173 


of Prince Jan since that time when he had been 
led down the trail to a Land of No Snow. His 
silver collar was examined and admired, and Jan 
knew they were all glad that he had come back 
home. 

It was Brother Antoine, though, who said, 
“Come with me. Prince Jan.” 

The big dog followed at once. Through the 
corridors of the Hospice, down a few steps, he 
went swiftly to the basement, under high arch¬ 
ways, and through the open entrance that led 
into the kennel yard. And then, Jan stood once 
more in the home of his ancestors, and saw again 
his own kin. 

Panting with excitement, he ran among them 
all and looked eagerly around. Many of the 
dogs were strangers to him, but when he saw old 
Bruno limping slowly across to where he stood, 
Jan’s yelp made the other dogs start, and as he 
reached Bruno’s side and showed that he had 
not forgotten, Bruno’s joy was just as plain. 
Two tawny streaks flashed up to Jan, sniffed, 
and then yelped and yelped in wildest excite¬ 
ment; and this time Jan’s voice mingled with his 
mother’s and Rollo’s, while the other dogs joined 


174 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 

until the white mountains sent back the call of the 
Hospice dogs. 

Brother Antoine, smiling happily, patted Jan 
and left him with the other dogs. But later in 
the day he returned and bade J an follow. They 
went into the Big Room where the captain and 
the doctor were talking with several travellers 
and two more monks. They watched the dog 
move to the side of the old man; then Brother 
Antoine unfastened the silver collar from Jan’s 
neck and hung it over the fireplace beside the 
big painting of the St. Bernard dog rescuing a 
man from the snow. 

“It shall hang there so that all who come to 
the Hospice may see it and hear the story of 
Prince Jan,” said Brother Antoine. 

Every one praised Jan, and he then went back 
to the kennel, where he was quickly surrounded 
by the other dogs. It was a great day for the 
St. Bernards, and they were very proud of Jan 
when he told them the story of his adventures 
in the strange land where there was never any 
snow. 


Chapter XVI 
Prince Jan Decides 

J AN slept soundly that night, and when he 
woke just before the first peep of day, and 
saw the other dogs stretched around him, 
he remembered that he was back home once more 
with his mother. Hollo, Bruno, and the rest of 
the Hospice dogs, and that now he would have a 
chance to do the work of his forefathers. 

The soft, deep tones of the Hospice bell called 
them all to waken for a new day and its work. 
The voices of the monks singing in the chapel 
ceased, and at once all the dogs turned expectant 
eyes toward the corridor, where Brother Antoine 
appeared with food for their breakfast. 

They leaped around the monk, or mauled 
each other in play, while the hot food was poured 
into a small trough, and soon Prince Jan was 
eating his share with the rest of them. They all 
made way for him, and there was no crowding, 
growling, or fighting over their morning meal. 
175 


176 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


When it was over the door leading into the 
yard was opened and the dogs tumbled out, 
barking, jumping, knocking each other over, or 
scampering full tilt in merrj^' play. Rollo and 
his brother forgot they were grown-up and 
frisked together as they had done in the days 
before Prince Jan had been taken to the Land of 
No Snow. 

Once more Brother Antoine stood on the steps 
watching them, and at last he called Jan, who 
trotted obediently to him, and followed through 
the arched corridors and the long hallway until 
they reached the three doors that opened, one 
after the other, to the outside steps. 

Jan saw the doctor and the captain already 
there. The old man was mounted on the mule, 
Ketty, while Pierrot, the driver, waited beside 
it. The doctor held a long, stout stick. 

With a bark of welcome, the dog hurried to 
them and stood up on his hind legs so he could 
lick the hand of the captain and feel its gentle 
touch on his head. 

Brother Antoine paused at the top step and 
watched, but he did not speak as Pierrot called 
aloud and the mule started briskly down the trail 
leading to Martigny. The doctor walked beside 


PRINCE JAN DECIDES 


177 


the mule, and then Jan understood that they 
were leaving the Hospice. 

He stopped and gazed back wistfully. The 
monk on the step gave no sign, uttered no word 
to call him back. Sadly Jan turned and moved 
along the trail behind the mule. The doetor and 
the captain, and even Pierrot, looked at the dog, 
but none of them spoke to him. 

For some little distance Jan trudged heavily, 
then he stopped suddenly and twisted for a last 
look at his home. He saw the high-peaked roof 
and the snow-clad mountains looming above it, 
then he turned again to follow the travellers. 
They were now some distance ahead of him and 
a jagged cliff hid them from his eyes. Jan did 
not move. 

Through a gap he saw the captain, the doctor, 
and the guide. They halted this time. They 
were waiting there for him. 

The dog started quickly toward them, but 
something made him look again where Brother 
Antoine stood on the steps. Jan hesitated, then 
he sat down facing the trail toward Martigny. 
In a few minutes he saw the little procession start 
on its way. He knew he could catch up with 
them easily if he ran fast, but still he sat with- 


178 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


out moving, his eyes fastened on that gap be¬ 
tween the mountains. 

He lifted his head and sent out the cry of his 
forefathers, so that the echoes rang again and 
again. The answering voices died away, there 
was no sound save the swish of melting snow that 
slipped down the steep places, and then Prince 
Jan, St. Bernard, turned and trotted up the trail 
to the home of his ancestors. 

Brother Antoine waited on the top step. As 
the dog reached him, the monk stooped and pat¬ 
ted him, whispering softly, ‘Tt is not easy. 
Prince Jan, when the paths that Love and Duty 
travel lie far apart.” 

And so Prince Jan came back to the work of 
his ancestors, and as the months passed by he 
saved many lives and was very happy. The 
young dogs listened in respectful wonder when 
he told of the strange places and things that he 
had found in the Land of No Snow. They 
learned from him the lessons of obedience, loy¬ 
alty, and kindliness. 

‘Tf you do the very best you know how, it will 
always work out right in the end,” Jan ended 
each talk. 

But sometimes at night as he slept among the 


PRINCE JAN DECIDES 


179 


other dogs, he saw the captain walking about a 
room. Cheepsie was perched on the old man’s 
shoulder, while Hippity-Hop skipped beside 
them, and the dog knew that they were thinking 
of him. 

Then Jan’s ears cocked up, his tail swished 
gently on the stone floor of the Hospice, for in 
his dreams he heard the faint sound of a quavering 
voice singing: 

“Old dog Tray is ever faithful. 

Grief cannot drive him away. 

He’s gentle and he’s kind 
And you’ll never, never find 
A better friend than old dog Tray.’* 


Chapter XVII 
Jan’s Reward 

WO years went past and Jan’s work at 



the Hospice brought him great happi- 


ness, for he knew that he was doing the 
work of his ancestors and living a useful life. 

Often as he travelled the snow trails, he re¬ 
membered the Land of No Snow, the warm sun¬ 
shine, the fragrant flowers and the beautiful 
trees laden with golden fruit. But the one thing 
for which his loyal heart yearned most was the 
touch of a wrinkled hand on his head and the 
sound of the old poundmaster’s voice. No one 
knew Jan’s thoughts, for he was always eager 
to do his work the best he knew how, and to 
teach the puppies to be proud of the privilege of 
helping people. 

Brother Antoine had left the Hospice and 
gone down into the warmer climate of the Val¬ 
ley of the Rhone. His work had been done 
bravely and unselfishly, and the monks had asked 


180 


JAN’S REWARD 


181 


that he be sent to a place where sunshine and 
milder air would give him a chance to recover 
his strength and prolong his life. Jan greatly 
missed this dear friend. 

There were cold mornings when Prince Jan 
rose stiffly, for he had not been hardened to the 
trail work from puppy days as Rollo and the 
other dogs had been. Five years of warm sun¬ 
shine in the Land of No Snow had made Jan’s 
muscles soft and flabby and he felt the cold 
weather more than any of the other St. Ber¬ 
nards. Then, too, his long hair made the work 
of the trails harder for him because the snow 
clung to his fur and when it melted and soaked 
to his skin, the monks watched carefully to keep 
him from becoming chilled. Once or twice he 
had limped badly after coming in from his work, 
and then he had been rubbed and taken into the 
Big Room and allowed to stretch before the fire¬ 
place, and for a while he was not sent out with 
the other dogs. 

One day during summer many of the dogs 
were given a chance to exercise outdoors. Jan 
sat watching the youngsters tumble each other 
about, while he recalled the times when he and 
Rollo had played that way and old Bruno had 


182 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


sat watching them. Then one of the pups began 
barking, and soon the others added their calls 
of welcome as a little party of travellers ap¬ 
peared in the opening of the mountain pass 
toward Martigny. Jan, mindful of his respon¬ 
sibility, joined in the calls. His deep, mellow 
tones sounded distinctly above the others, but 
he did not know that those on the trail had 
stopped while an old man, mounted on a mule, 
cried out, ‘listen! That is Jan! I know his 
voice 

A younger man and a young woman who were 
also mounted on mules, laughed happily, though 
the woman’s eyes were filled with tears as she 
looked at the old man. Then they hurried on and 
soon were in plain sight of the steps that led 
into the Hospice. In a few more minutes the 
mules stopped and the dogs crowded about to 
show how glad they were to have visitors. 

The old man climbed down from his mule and 
turned to face the dogs. He looked quickly from 
one to the other, until he found the one he sought. 
Prince Jan started, his eyes lighted up sud¬ 
denly, his head was lifted high, then with a yelp 
of joy the big dog leaped forward. 

“Jan! Jan! You haven’t forgotten me, have 


JAN’S REWARD 


183 


you?” cried the old poundmaster, kneeling down 
and putting his arms about the shaggy neck, 
while the dog’s rough tongue licked the wrinkled 
hand, and little whimpers of delight told of Jan’s 
happiness. 

The other dogs crowded around in excitement, 
wondering what it all meant, and the guide, with 
the lady and gentleman, now beside the old man, 
kept talldng together and patting Jan’s head. 
But he did not think of them as they moved to 
the door, for Jan’s only thought was to keep 
closely beside his dear old master whose hand 
rested on the furry head, and whose kindly, 
faded blue eyes were filled with tears of joy. 
Jan’s eyes spoke his own happiness and love. 

In the Big Room the monks received the old 
captain, whom they had not forgotten, and 
after the first greetings were over, they listened 
to the story of the poundmaster’s homesickness 
for Jan. The lady, who was the captain’s 
daughter, explained that the mines in far-away 
Alaska had been sold for enough money to build 
a home in Southern California, where the cap¬ 
tain lived with them. But it had not taken her 
very long to learn how much her father wished 
to see Prince Jan once more. So the little 


184 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


family had travelled back to Jan’s home in the 
Alps. 

That evening Jan was very happy as he 
stretched before the fireplace at the captain’s 
feet. He did not sleep, for his eyes were fixed 
on the old man’s face, and when the poundmaster 
reached down to touch Jan’s head, the dog’s tail 
swished and thumped. Then Jan rose to his 
feet and laid his head on the captain’s knee, just 
as he used to do in the other days. 

The monks talked very earnestly with the 
captain’s daughter and her husband, and at last 
they all sat down together, smiling at Jan. He 
did not understand what they were saying but 
he knew they were very happy, and he was 
happy with them. 

What they had talked about was their plan 
for the dog. He was now past eight years old 
and in a short time would not be able to go out 
on the trail. Prince Jan had done his part in 
the work of the St. Bernards with honor to him¬ 
self and to them, and now that he was growing 
old, the monks felt that he was entitled to spend 
his last years in comfort and happiness with his 
old friend. Captain Smith. 

So, the next morning Jan was brought to the 


JAN’S REWARD 


185 


entrance of the Hospice, and there, as before, 
he saw Captain Smith on the mule. The cap¬ 
tain’s daughter and her husband were mounted 
on the other mules, and the guide had started 
along the trail. 

Jan looked at the monks who were grouped 
on the stone steps, then he looked at the cap¬ 
tain. The mules moved slowly behind the guide. 
Prince Jan gave a pitiful little whimper as he 
saw them go. Then he heard the voice of the 
monk who now had charge of the kennels. 

“Go on, Jan!” 

The dog took a few steps and stopped. The 
monks were smiling and pointing toward the 
trail that led to Martigny, He turned and 
watched those who were riding down that trail. 
They reached the gap and paused. 

Jan stood with trembling body, his eyes filled 
with longing and grief. Then clear and strong 
he heard the voice he loved. 

“Come on, Jan! We’re going home now!” 

“Woof! Woof!” the answer woke the echoes- 
sleeping in the hearts of the mountains, the dogs 
of the Hospice took up the call of their kin, and 
the big dog dashed swiftly along the trail until 
he reached the little group. 


186 PRINCE JAN, ST. BERNARD 


Leaping up, he licked the poundmaster’s 
hand. Then with head erect. Prince Jan, for the 
last time, travelled the trail of his ancestors. He 
did not know where he was going, but it made 
no difference to him. His master was looking 
down at him and smiling. 



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